For the love of...Gohan?
by Tomo Trillions
Summary: *Shounen ai/yaoi* love triangle ficcy....Pikoro loves Gohan, but Trunks does too. Angsty, fluffy, romantic, and a bit citrus-y. R/R!
1. Setting the Stage

For the Love of Gohan is my second shounen ai story (READ: HOMOSEXUALITY!), and this one is rated 'pg-13' for a bit of language and a few suggestive scenes....Well, the overrating is mainly to keep away younger readers. ^^; I doubt that will work, but still...  
  
  
This is one fanfic that will *not* be posted on my site, so make sure you check back here on FFN for new chapters.  
  
  
I don't own any of these characters, etc, etc, and I stole a good many ideas from the Piccolo/Gohan doujinshi I own, (^#^) so if you've read them some little parts may seem familier. Please be mature when reading, and remember to check my website for more fanfiction!  
  
  
http://www.envy.nu/tomosei/index.html   
  
  
  
Chapter 1  
  
  
  
"Pikoro-san!" Gohan tossed his bag down on the chair next to the door and glanced around, wondering where the massive namekusei-jin could be hiding. "Doko da?!"  
  
  
"I'm right here, you don't have to yell."  
  
  
Smoothing back his jet-black hair, Gohan walked into the living room, where Piccolo was seated on their couch, reading a thick book. Between his teeth was clamped a thin cigarette, and there was a half-empty bottle of sake sitting next to him.  
  
  
"Pikoro, is this all you do all day?"  
  
  
The namekusei-jin didn't glance up, just flipped a page and continued reading. It seemed that their daily conversation was over.... Gohan glanced at the clock on the mantel- 6:15 pm. Dinnertime already!  
  
  
Rolling his eyes at Piccolo's indiference, the demi-saiya-jin moved on up the stairs to their bedroom, pulling off his shirt and throwing it into the laundry room as he went. It had been months since he'd moved in with Piccolo to a small house in the country, and everyday was almost the same, no matter what, except for one little thing...  
  
  
'I moved in here because he said he loved me,' Gohan sighed as he donned something much more comfortable than the suit he wore while teaching. The moment Piccolo had said that was the happiest second in his whole life, and the experiance that had followed the words- his first time in the namekusei-jin's arms had been something he would never forget. But now.... 'Now he never says anything to me, it's like I'm not even here... Would he even miss me if I left?'  
  
  
Their home wasn't small, it was a level three capsule house, three bedrooms, two baths, a living room, a dining room, a kitchen and a game room. It was really too big for the two of them, but it had been cheap and Gohan didn't want to move again now that he had his own home. It had been hard enough to make Piccolo settle down in a town (albeit a small one) rather than in the middle of nowhere. The house was filled wall-to-wall with his own things, pictures and trinkets he had gained over the years, since Piccolo scarcely owned anything other than the stock of cigarettes he kept in his nightstand and the clothes on his back.  
  
  
Gohan smoothed down his shirt and flipped his shoes off, kicking them into the closet with a pair of dual thunks, then he pulled off his pressed pants and tugged on a dirty pair of jeans. Flopping back on the bed, he stared up at the ceiling and sighed.  
  
  
"What to do..."  
  
  
Closing his eyes, Gohan tried to think. Love. He was in love, yes, definately, but the question was- did Piccolo even love him back? Anymore? Did he ever?  
  
  
Well, physically-  
  
  
A blush crept up the demi-saiya-jin's face, though the room was empty. Piccolo was as much of a lover as Gohan could ever want, but....That was the only time Piccolo showed any affection, the only time he mentioned Gohan's name with more than annoyance or anger. It got so frustrating...  
  
  
He could feel his eyes filling with water. 'I'm so weak,' the saiya-jin sighed, scrubbing the streaks from his face with the corner of the bedspread. 'I need him so much, but he doesn't understand that. How can he just....just keep living like this....?'  
  
  
Standing, the boy moved into the bathroom and splashed a bit of water from the sink bowl up against his face, a pathetic attempt to hide the tears that marred his skin.  
  
  
"This isn't how it was supposed to be, it was supposed to be perfect!" he whispered softly, staring miserably at his own reflection. "It's all wrong and he doesn't even care..."  
  
  
It would be easier if Piccolo had even noticed Gohan's quiet suffering, but the namekusei-jin seemed blind to it. How could this be?! Everything Gohan had seen in Piccolo's eyes when they first became more than friends was dead now, and Gohan felt trapped within a glass cage he would never escape from.  
  
  
"Pikoro-san...."  
  
  
The phone chose that moment to jump off the hook with clanging rings, and Gohan leapt as well, surprised by the sudden noise. With a sigh, he cleared his throat and sniffed once, then took the reciever in one hand and spoke in a carefully controlled voice. "Mushi mushi, Son-Daimaou residence-"  
  
  
On the other end, a familier voice suddenly sounded worried- the speaker knew him well enough to sense the distress in his tone. "Gohan, it's me. Daijobu ka...?"  
  
  
A look of relief spread across Gohan's face as he recognized the speaker- someone he could trust. Someone who understood and at times was willing to listen. "Trunks!"  
  
  
"Yeah, it's me, you sound like something's wrong." Trunks tried to sound compassionate (instead of eager), praying that Gohan would say the words he had been waiting to hear for years...  
  
  
"Well...Pikoro-san is....well, driving me crazy." Gohan paused a moment before admitting the problem, but once he had confessed, he felt a bit lighter of spirit. "Nothing is like I imagined it would be."  
  
  
Close enough. A brilliant smile spread across Trunks' face, but he forced his voice to sound controlled- don't let Gohan know! 'Relationship problems....it leaves a place for me to step in and show him how kind I can be, this could be the chance I've been waiting for!' "Saa....if you want to talk about it, I was going to ask you out to lunch tomorrow, I have a three-hour break, and if you need to talk, I'm more than willing to listen."  
  
  
"Hontou?" Well, tomorrow WAS saturday, and Piccolo never cared where he went, let alone who he was with... Was that a good thing? "That would be really nice, Trunks. What time should I meet you?"  
  
  
"Why don't you come by my office at eleven, and we'll find a nice fancy restaraunt, my treat. Unless you want to talk now..."  
  
  
"Ah, it can wait. I'll see you tomorrow."  
  
  
"Okay, ja!"  
  
  
Gohan listened until the other end of the line clicked once and went dead, then he set the phone down and turned around.  
  
  
Piccolo was standing in the doorway.  
  
  
"Piccolo-san?" Gohan blinked, stomach turning. He wasn't sure why he would want to keep his misery a secret, but somehow...somehow it wasn't the time to tell him. 'Will Pikoro get mad if he knew I'm going to lunch with Trunks?'  
  
  
Gohan spared a quick prayer that he would be- that would be a show of jealously, and in turn, affection. Protectiveness. Something he longed to feel again... "Trunks was on the phone, I'm going to meet him for lunch tomorrow."  
  
  
"Ah." was all Piccolo said as he stepped forward and pulled Gohan tight against his chest. The boy felt a surge of pleasure at the closeness and then of anger, speculations filling his mind. 'Pikoro must have heard the conversation... He thinks that one little hug will make everything okay... I don't want that, I don't want to be his toy, and I don't want any fake emotions just so that I'll stay around with him...'  
  
  
"Pikoro-san, let me go..."  
  
  
Piccolo pressed his lips against Gohan's forehead, letting his hands slide over the younger man's back, feeling the tensed muscles there and tracing over the curves of strength, dominating the boy with barely a thought. He smirked as he felt Gohan weaken against him as he slid his hands lower, speaking gruffly in the boy's ear. "I don't want to."  
  
  
Oh. Gohan understood now- Piccolo hadn't heard the conversation, he just wanted the only kind of love he seemed capable of feeling, physical love. Gohan was washed in conflicting emotions- hunger for his mentor and revulsion- he was being used. A toy of pleasure. 'Did he ever REALLY love me?'  
  
  
Some part of him said yes, screamed it into the blackness of his thoughts. What if he had, what if he still did? Wouldn't that make all of this worthwhile?   
  
  
Maybe someday Piccolo would understand all the things his chosen needed, the emotions, the small words, the secret smiles that had forged their relationship in the first place.  
  
  
Jerking back to reality, Gohan felt his shirt sliding from his shoulders- the decision had already been made for him, and struggle was pointless now. Still, just for show, he pushed at Piccolo's bare shoulders and tried to ignore the lips on his neck. "Come on, please, not tonight, Piccolo-"  
  
  
"Mmm."  
  
  
Well...what was one more night...?  
  
  
"Fine...fine..." he sighed, then let the bitterness fall from his voice and be replaced by adoration. "Pikoro-san, aishiteru..."  
  
  
"Hn."  
  
  
  
The alarm let out a shrill squeal, loud enough to raise the dead. Piccolo cracked open one eye and regarded the face of the jibbering thing, then yawned toothily and blinked. Ten o'clock already? He had slept much later than normal, which wasn't surprising, all things considered.  
  
  
Beside him, Gohan stirred, then swore. "Oh, shit!"  
  
  
Piccolo lazily curled an arm around the boy's thin waist as Gohan sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Come back to bed," he murmered, trying to tease Gohan into one more round before the afternoon hours. "The day's still young."  
  
  
"No! Pikoro, I have to go, I'm meeting Trunks in an hour!! I have to get ready."  
  
  
"Who needs Trunks?" the namekusei-jin purred, running his fingers across Gohan's washboard stomach invitingly as the younger man shivered, looking as if he wanted to give in.  
  
  
"Oh.....NO." Gohan shoved his arm aside and stood, wrapping one of the still-warm sheets around himself like a toga as he made his way towards the bathroom, stopping at the closet to dig a decent looking pair of pants for the lunch 'date' from beneath a dozen of Piccolo's indigo gis. "I need Trunks- he's my best friend."  
  
  
He left Piccolo alone to figure out what exactly that meant. 


	2. The wonders of sake

  
  
Trunks glanced nervously at his desk and then at the clock. 10:37. He waited what felt like an hour, then glanced up again and sighed. 10:38....  
  
  
'I should have told him to come earlier,' the half saiya-jin squirmed in his seat, drumming his fingers on the desk until a crack appeared, running up one side of the mahogany frame. The desk was littered with papers and pencils- the man hadn't gotten a lick of work done all morning- he was too preoccupied. Trunks regarded it for a moment, then leapt up and ran to the bathroom, staring at his reflection in the mirror once more and asking the questions he had asked over and over all morning, ever since he got into the office.  
  
  
Trunks looked a lot like his future counterpart now, though he didn't know it. He had let his hair grow long and wore it back in a long lavender ponytail that always stayed perfectly in place. Combined with his dark-colored suit, it had a habit of making him look like a sleek buisness tycoon, which of course, he was. It also tended to remind people that he was filthy stinking rich. "I wonder if he likes my hair long?" Trunks wondered outloud, fixing his ponytail for the third time in an hour. "I wonder if I should bring him flowers? Chocolate? A new air-car? Anything? Or would that make it too obvious that I'm trying to move in where Pikoro is now?"  
  
  
His own voice echoed through his personal restroom as he scrutinized every portion of his reflection. The suit was perfect, navy blue, it was a natural fit- all of Trunks' clothes were tailored exactly to his form. "I think the jacket is too formal," he sighed, slipping it off. Beneath was a white cotton button-up shirt, which he removed his tie from and then slipped it back on, wondering which looked better. "It's too impersonal with the tie on," he finally admitted.  
  
  
Still, Trunks could picture himself kissing Gohan in a tie....  
  
  
Hell, he could picture Gohan in a tie!  
  
  
.....nothing but a tie.......  
  
  
"Aah....ah shit," Trunks sighed as the suit suddenly began to feel very tight, wishing he'd waited till after the 'date' to think of such things. The nosebleed would be difficult to explain...  
  
  
Wiping it off with the back of one hand, he found a few wads of cotton and heaved himself onto the counter next to the sink and waited with his head tilted back.  
  
  
  
10:53. Gohan landed on the roof of the main Capsule Corperation office building with a graceful thunk. His hair was out of place, but other than that he looked just fine. Waving Kin'toun away, he moved towards the staircase and let himself in, walking down the steps to the floor Trunks' office was on. Glancing around, he gave the secretary a wave. "I'm here to see Trunks..."  
  
  
"Name?" The woman was certainly well-endowed, and when she looked at Gohan she blushed faintly and leaned over, examining a clipboard and giving Gohan an unreasonably good look down her dress front.  
  
  
"S-son Gohan..." Gohan muttered, staring at his feet. "Trunks was expecting me."  
  
  
"Oh, you're his eleven o'clock appointment. He's been so jumpy I thought he was having a   
female friend over or something," the woman said silkily, winking at the young man. Gohan laughed nervously and shrugged. "I'm glad it's just you, less competition for me."  
  
  
Sweatdrop. "I'm not an appointment, we're just having lunch."  
  
  
"You kidding? His lunch isn't till one thirty. You're an appointment, kiddo."  
  
  
Gohan blinked and walked to the door while the woman depressed an intercom button. 'Wow,' he thought, 'Trunks took three hours off just to listen to my problem....he's a really good friend. I'm so lucky...'   
  
  
"Briefs-sama," the secretary said in a sexy sort of voice that made Gohan stare at her oddly, "One Son Gohan is here to see you."  
  
  
Trunks calmed his voice and forced himself to sit at his desk and look like he was working. "Send him in."  
  
  
The door clicked open and Gohan walked in, gazing around the massive office in awe. The place was as luxurious as could be, lush carpet underfoot and low lighting in every corner. Windows were placed around the dome-like ceiling, letting in natural light. Trunks desk was dark mahogany, and Gohan blinked to notice the crack running up one side, nearly splitting the surface in half. "Oi, Torunksuu," he smiled shakily and lifted one hand.  
  
  
"Oh, Gohan!" Trunks beamed for a moment, then adjusted his expression. "You're right on time!"  
  
  
"I didn't want to keep you waiting," Gohan said quietly.  
  
  
'I'll wait as long as it takes,' Trunks grinned and slid a few papers out of a long manilla envelope.  
  
  
Gohan yawned once and plunked down in a nearby chair. "I'll be honest, I almost didn't get up in time to get here! I was up way too late last night."  
  
  
Trunks felt his stomach fill with ice. He really, really, really didn't want to know what that comment meant- that hurt ten times more than Gohan would ever know. Still, he managed to school his mind and ignore the conotation of those words... "Hehe, lazy days are good days. Let me sign this paper and then we'll be ready to go. Do you want to go out or eat here?"  
  
  
"Oh, let's go out. Pikoro never takes me anywhere."  
  
  
Pressing his intercom button, Trunks made a request of his over-eager secretary. "Bambi," he asked the secretary, "what's the most expensive restaraunt in town?"  
  
  
"Oh, Briefs-sama, that's definately El Cielo, the space-needle restaraunt downtown.... They've got the best food around, but you have to have a reservation weeks in advance." Bambi's voice was surprised and a little awe-filled as she answered. Not many people could afford to eat at such a nice place...  
  
  
"Call them up and have them seat a table for two around eleven thirty, nevermind the price."  
  
  
"You got it, Prez."  
  
  
"TRUNKS!" Gohan nearly choked- Piccolo didn't work and he was only a teacher, so money was always scarce. "You can't do that, that'll cost you a fortune!"  
  
  
Trunks smiled to himself at the shock in Gohan's voice. He was still a country boy in so many ways... Though he was many years younger, Trunks often felt like he was older than Gohan. In some ways, the lavender-haired man guessed, he was. "Well, I have to spend it on someone, so I might as well spend it on you."  
  
  
Gohan paused a moment, then grinned. "Trunks, you need to find a nice girl so you'll stop wasting your money on me. I'm fine with cold tuna at your office desk, don't go out of your way-"  
  
  
"There aren't any girls in the picture at the moment," Trunks said softly, sighing. Gohan had no idea that Trunks was...well, like him. He didn't even see Vegeta's son as a potential boyfriend, nothing more than a buddy to have lunch with. It had been like this for years!  
  
  
"Hmmm...well, going out with a gay friend won't exactly turn the masses on," Gohan winked cheerfully at Trunks' back as the other man stood and filed one last folder. "You really should get out on the town and meet some people!"  
  
  
"Oh, you're one to talk, Gohan!" Trunks forced himself to laugh at the words that were more-than-painful to his psyche. "When was the last time you went to a night club?"  
  
  
Gohan thought a few moments, then coughed once in the silence and spoke almost regretfully. "I....um.....I think Videl took me to one before I realized that....well, you remember how that was."  
  
  
Trunks did. He had been young at the time, but he still remembered how much Videl had loved Gohan, and what had happened when Piccolo claimed the young man to be his own in front of the woman, and challenged her to fight him for posession of the saiya-jin man... Gohan, despite his brotherly love for the female fighter, had sided with Piccolo when all was said and done. Videl had been completely defeated by the namekusei-jin, and only a senzu bean had saved her life.  
  
  
Trunks hadn't seen her since.  
  
  
That had been the first time Trunks had realized what he was. That it was possible for a boy to love others of his kind and for them to be happy....unfortunately, with that realization came admiration for Gohan, who dared to be what he was even when his mother begged him to reconsider...  
  
  
That had been when his crush started.  
  
  
"Yeah, I remember," Trunks said softly, ignoring the memories that flooded through his mind. "Still, I don't want to go out on the town alone. If you want me to go out so bad, why don't you come too? We can hit some dance clubs."  
  
  
Gohan thought carefully for a moment, weighing the potential good time against Piccolo's anger, and deciding that he didn't want to offend his mentor/lover by going out with another boy, he shook his head. "What would Pikoro think?"  
  
  
"Well, he doesn't have to know."  
  
  
".......No, Trunks, I don't think I should."  
  
  
Trunks felt his hard-won opportunity slipping away, and he grasped to catch it before it shattered. "Well, at least think about it over dinner. Right now, let's go down and drive out to that restaraunt."  
  
  
  
Piccolo threw his fist forward and then shifted his weight, bouncing nimbly backwards until he was against the wall of his gravity room. Only then did he allow himself to pause, slicked the sweat off his hairless eyebrow-ridges and slump down against the wall, panting.  
  
  
It had been four hours straight, or had it been more? He couldn't remember... the intense combination of heat and high gravity was beginning to make him dizzy. Piccolo sighed and set his head against his knees, pondering. Today was a saturday, and Gohan wasn't sparring with him. Why was that again? Oh, yeah. He was out with Trunks...  
  
  
Trunks, huh? Piccolo frowned as he felt a surge of a strange feeling fill his chest- he was jealous, very jealous. However... 'If Gohan knows that, he'll be mad. He'll think I don't trust him, which I do, more than anything.'  
  
  
Oh, come on, he realized. Might as well admit it.  
  
  
'This relationship is falling apart...but why? What am I doing wrong? I try to make him happy when we're alone, but during the daylight hours we grow further and further apart. I don't know how to fix this.'  
  
  
He considered asking someone for help- who could he turn to? Gohan had been his best friend, Gokou was nothing for relationships, Vegeta was...well....Vegeta. Chi-chi hated Piccolo with a passion for 'perverting her baby'...  
  
  
The only noise that filled the room was Piccolo's breathing and the drip-drip of sweat against the chipped tile as the namekusei-jin tried to decipher Gohan's feelings.  
  
  
  
"So ya see...." Gohan said loudly, twirling a shot glass around in his fingers and staring dismally at the emptied contents, "Pikoro-san's stop't payin' attention ta me around our housh...house... yeah, house... I mean, he's a damned good lover, Trunks," for a moment, the man grinned, but the expression washed away quickly, "But is that all he wants? I'm not a toy! NOT HIS TOY!"  
  
  
He slammed the glass down onto the table, and a waiter appeared at his side, filling it immediately. When Gohan picked it up again, he stared in surprise at the vodka sloshing down his arm and then smiled, downing the rest. He made a face for a moment before speaking again, and Trunks was beginning to regret asking for a list of the house's liquors.  
  
  
"Of course not, Gohan-kun, of course not," he murmered, hoping to quiet the man. Over Gohan's shoulder he could see a young woman pointing towards their booth with an angry look on her face... "Shh, don't be so loud."  
  
  
"But Trunks, you said I could tell you about it! I want more than feeling his-"  
  
  
"GOHAN!"  
  
  
"Excuse me, sirs, but if you don't quiet down I'm going to have to ask you to leave," a young man appeared, wearing a badge that read 'Manager' across the front. "You are disturbing our other guests."  
  
  
Gohan stood. "Your other guestsht...gu...guests....can be disturbed, I don't give a DAMN!" he shouted, the shotglass in his hand slipping away. "In fact, I...I...."  
  
  
The glass went flying and shattered against the floor, while Trunks, pulling his pride together, led Gohan out the door, tossing two hundred-zeni bills over to the manager as they left. "Keep the change, sorry about this, sir. My friend isn't used to such hard drinks..."  
  
  
As he pushed Gohan into the back seat of his car, Trunks sighed and shook his head. So much for a nice date.  
  
  
Then again, he did have Gohan drunk and-  
  
  
"Capsule corp? Yeah....Bambi-chan, cancel my appointments this afternoon..."  
  
  
  
Piccolo sat at the dining room table, staring at the front door, his ears perked for the sound of a car door slamming and his ki attuned to Gohan's signal. The boy had been moving around all afternoon, jumping around with the ki Piccolo recognized as Trunks.  
  
  
He glanced at the clock....10:45 pm. "Just eating lunch together....hah."  
  
  
Still, though...."If I look for him, he'll know I'm worried and he'll think I don't trust him and his judgement." Piccolo's pride was too strong to let that happen. "Why are saiya-jin so hard to figure out? The human blood doesn't help any, either...."  
  
  
Piccolo's antennae flattened against his brows and he sat miserably at the table as the clock passed eleven o'clock and sounded the number into the silent house. He missed the boy. He worried about him, though he hated to let it show.  
  
  
"Gohan....doko da......?"  
  
  
  
Elsewhere, other lips were saying that name, in a much different context. "Go....Gohan...kun..." Trunks whispered huskily, unable to believe his luck. Nightclub after nightclub and shot upon shot of alchohol had led him to this- he was stretched out over Gohan, breathing in the musky scent Gohan's sweat, overpowering and oh-so-inviting...  
  
  
"Torunkusu..." Gohan breathed, his cloudy mind unfocused on what was happening. He could feel the warmth of Trunks' lips against his neck, feel the hands clumsily unbuttoning his shirt, felt lavender hair falling in his eyes- "M..matte..."  
  
  
Trunks paused and lifted his head from Gohan's neck, breath hissing against the other man's skin before playfully nipping on his ear and then murmering against his face. "Hai, Gohan?"   
  
  
"Onegai.....yamero...." Gohan whispered, tightening his fingers against Trunks's sculpted back and turning his head away. "Onegai, onegai...."  
  
  
"Gohan," Trunks first ran his toungue up Gohan's neck and then found his lips, kissing him fully and forcing the older man's hands back against the cool car window. "I don't want to stop," he swore darkly, running his toungue across Gohan's lips and continuing once again before pausing to speak. "I never do."  
  
  
"No! P....Pikoro!"  
  
  
"That bastard will never know what he's lost," Trunks purred, running his toungue against Gohan's cheekbones. The black-haired saiya-jin's arms slipped from his grasp, one hand pushing against Trunks' shoulder, trying to force him away.  
  
  
"No... he loves me..." The words were forced, the only thing Gohan had to believe. Trunks realized that before he would have Gohan, he had to shatter Piccolo's memory into a thousand pieces.  
  
  
Something he would gladly do.  
  
  
Trunks pushed Gohan's hands back and shifted his weight- he was straddling the older saiya-jin to keep him down. The way Gohan was stretched there, his shirt open, his face flushed...  
  
  
Trunks swallowed back his lust and forced himself to speak. "Gohan, he doesn't love you! HE DOESN'T!" Frustration, denial, need....they filled Trunks' mind, making him speak what before he would have never breathed word of. He wanted Gohan, there and then, and nothing was going to stop him. "I want you, I need you, please, let me pleasure you, let me love you-"  
  
  
Apparently the alchohol clouding wasn't enough, Gohan suddenly struggled against Trunks with all his strength, slipping his sweaty hands out of his grip and fumbling around with the side of the car. In moments he had the door open and spilled out of the steaming car into the gutter below. "NO! I love him! I won't...be untrue, please Torunksu..."  
  
  
"GOHAN!"  
  
  
Leaping up, the black-haired man stumbled away and leaned against a bench for a moment to steady himself. It was impossible to walk straight, impossible to think-  
  
  
"God, Gohan! Let me love you! Let me show you-" In seconds, he had Gohan in his arms again, was pulling him into his lap down on the bench. Was kissing his neck. Was tugging at the belt around his waist. "Let me-..."  
  
  
Face crimson with alchohol, Gohan moaned and shook his head, half unconcious. "No..."  
  
  
"Gohan....."  
  
  
A moment passed before Gohan sagged against Trunks, a small smile on his face though his eyes were closed. "Mm...no, Pikoro-s-san... no, stop-"  
  
  
Trunks froze in place, feeling the warmth in his belly washing away with those words. Piccolo.... He owned Gohan completely, but didn't deserve him... Gohan wasn't feeling Trunks' hands, he was feeling his mentor. Kissing someone completely different. To...to do anything now would practically be rape...  
  
  
"Gohan...if I want you, it can't be like this, can it?"  
  
  
The black-haired head fell against his neck, the soft breathing brushing against Trunks' shirtless shoulder. After a moment, he pushed Gohan off and stood, face flushed. 'Oh god, let him be too drunk to remember.....' "Come on, Gohan. I'm taking you home."  
  
  
  
Piccolo was at the door before Trunks even finished knocking, swinging it open and nearly smashing into the lavender-haired boys face. "GOHAN!"  
  
  
His eyes fell on Trunks, who was holding Gohan in his arms, both of them shirtless, and Piccolo froze, narrowing his eyes. For a moment a tense silence filled the air, broken by Piccolo's suspicious query. "What happened...?"  
  
  
"Gohan had a little too much to drink. Here, I'll carry him in-" Trunks moved forwards, but was blocked by Piccolo's massive figure.  
  
  
The namekusei-jin scowled down at Trunks before snatched Gohan from his arms and holding the man tightly against his chest. "That's not necessary."  
  
  
Silence, full of accusation as Piccolo glared down at the lavender haired saiya-jin. Trunks wondered just how telepathic namekusei-jin were, since Piccolo's eyes seemed to be boring into his soul. Or was his own guilt the problem, was he beating himself up?  
  
  
Just as Trunks was ready to apologize for anything he might have done, Piccolo turned his back on the man and muttered a dismissal over his shoulder, short and unquestionable. "You can leave. Now."  
  
  
Trunks was left staring at a slammed door.  
  
  
Moving through the entryway, Piccolo scowled. Sniffing delicately at his mate, the namekusei-jin sighed tiredly and shook his head. "Gohan, you stink like something dead." The saiya-jin in his arms simply reeked of smoke, cheap booze, hormones and Trunks...  
  
  
Hormones and Trunks?  
  
  
Raising his brows in surprise, Piccolo carried Gohan up into the bathroom and flipped the  
hot water on with one three-fingered hand, carefully keeping Gohan in his arms. He took a moment to pull off Gohan's long slacks, then dumped him in the bath, boxers and all.  
  
  
A few moments passed as Gohan splashed out of his slumber and sat up, rubbing  
his eyes with his fists. "Pik'ro-san!" He squeaked happily when he realized who was kneeling at the side of the tub, and just who's hand was cupped under his chin, making sure he didn't sink underwater. "What're ya doin' here?"  
  
  
"I live here, kid." Piccolo smirked, tilting his head slightly. Something told him Gohan wouldn't be remembering much of this in the morning... "You're wasted."  
  
  
Giggling childishly, Gohan splashed him with a faceful of warm water and grinned ear to  
ear before trying to stand. "I are, aren't I..." His feet slipped out from under him, and only Piccolo's hands kept him from slamming skull-first into the bathtub.  
  
  
"Gohan!"  
  
  
"Pik'ro-chaaaaaaaaan....I need some help..." Gohan said coyly, splashing again and making Piccolo's eyes narrow slightly at his tone of voice. "It's too cold 'n 'ere, I wannya to turn up the hot..."  
  
  
"Talk to me when you're sober." Piccolo scowled, turned the 'cold' faucet to full force and listened in satisfaction as Gohan shrieked at the sudden temperature change. Catching the boy as he struggled out of the now-frigid water, Piccolo lifted him gently and carried him over to the bed they shared.  
  
  
Gohan was half-asleep as soon as he hit the covers, curling up and wrapping his fluffy tail around Piccolo's hand in a subconcious gesture of affection. The namekusei-jin smiled slightly as the boy muttered in his half-awake state. "Pik'ro-sama...ma...."  
  
  
Piccolo shook his head and settled down at the foot of the bed, staring at his student lover with a forced-yet-irritated scowl on his face. "Gohan, if you ever do this again, I'm going to kill you."  
  
  
Gohan was already asleep.  
  
  
Staring at the boy, Piccolo settled back against the foot of the bed, regarding his student-turned-lover with confusion on his face. The way Gohan had come home tonight...asleep in the arms of Trunks, who seemed all-too-glad to be carrying the young demi-saiya-jin... Piccolo didn't like it at all.  
  
  
It made him nervous.  
  
  
When he was sleeping, Gohan looked so utterly content to just remain there between the sheets forever- why didn't he look that way when he was awake? Piccolo was at a loss. He knew Gohan was unhappy, he felt the growing hole in the center of their relationship, but fixing it was so hard...  
  
  
He sighed, watching as Gohan rolled over, his feet poking out from under the blanket. 'I knew I would be taking a risk when I agreed to lay with him that first night, when I gave in to the secret emotions I'd hidden for so long, and it was so...perfect... but.... now all my doubts are manifesting ten times over. Gohan, now that I've found you, I can't live without you, yet you're so unhappy... Why? It's me. I know it's me. You're perfect, you would never botch something like love up...but...do you understand how hard it is for me?'  
  
  
The inner monolouge recieved no answers/  
  
  
The saiya-jin 'snrked' loudly and smacked his lips, mumbling something incoherent. Piccolo tucked the other man's toes back under the covers and shook his head. 'I've never done this before. Gohan, I tried to explain then, that I've never been in love before. Never been loved period.'  
  
  
The years of being out on his own came flooding back in a swell of unwanted memories- the cold nights, the dark obsession, the seed of his father's hatred sprouting and crushing his heart within his chest. So miserable, so cold, so tired of the world...  
  
  
It had been hard growing up, though his childhood was short and hurried. There were no games and no peace, just fighting, just hate. Piccolo remembered the first time he had split his body, making a miniature copy of himself to spar with. The shock of seeing his own face, eyes narrow, antennae short and stubby- it had been scary. He was only a year old, and yet his father's battles weighed in his mind, a thousand years of bitter resentment polluting him-  
  
  
Piccolo winced and tried to shake the thoughts away. 'I never had anyone. I never gave love a thought. Even when I met you, you were always the child and I the adult, while I'm only four years older than you. You never think about that- to you I'm twice, thrice your age. Is that it? Am I too old for you, too dark?'  
  
  
Gohan didn't move, and Piccolo sighed again. How does one work his way into the mind of a drunken demi-saiya-jin? Sigh. He was doing that alot lately- he made a mental note to avoid it around Gohan. 'There's nothing I know how to do, Gohan, please, you have to help me. I want to stop this, I want to fix it to the way it was, but I can't, I don't know how. You could, please, just tell me what I'm doing wrong...'  
  
  
The namekusei-jin leaned back against the foot of the bed and waited for morning to come. 


	3. The Morning After (so to speak)

Chapter Three  
  
"Oh....shit."  
  
  
Gohan tried to open his eyes, winced, groaned, and closed them again.  
  
  
"Shit," he repeated, much more softly. The room was quiet, but it was the strange, pregnant sort of silence that promised a horrendous racket in only a few seconds, a strange sort of hovering silence...  
  
  
"Hey, kid."  
  
  
It broke. Bells clanged and a set of drums began drumming out a cadence on the inside of his skull- "AUGH!" Gohan yipped, then cut the whine short as it added to the barrage of sound only he could here. "Shh....onegai, shh..."  
  
  
No sarcastic remark escaped Piccolo's lips, instead he just moved to the nightstand and dunked a towel he had set out into the basin of cool water. Smirking, he laid the fabric over Gohan's forhead and held it there for a moment before brushing his thumb against Gohan's cheek.  
  
  
"What...what happened to me?" the boy murmered softly, feeling the soft caress. "I feel like I've been hit by a bus..."  
  
  
Better a bus then Trunks, Piccolo scowled, but didn't let Gohan see it. "You went out with Trunks yesterday and got very, very wasted."  
  
  
"EH?!" Gohan tried to sit up, but the swirling in his head made the action painful and very short-lived. "I...did?"  
  
  
"He brought you home after eleven, unconcious," Piccolo added helpfully as he closed the blinds on the window over the bed, stemming the light that filtered through until the room was a dull blend of lightless hues. Slowly the saiya-jin cracked his eyes again, and this time the light level didn't burn spots in them.  
  
  
"Eleven... I can't remember anything! Dammit, Pikoro, what did I do?!"  
  
  
"Trunks didn't say anything," Piccolo paused a moment to replace the cloth on Gohan's forhead. "So you'll have to ask him."  
  
  
"What?! How can I face him now?!"  
  
  
Piccolo's response was confident, but not overly so. The last thing he wanted was Gohan running off to do favors for Trunks to make up for this slip..."You'll manage. Are you hungry at all?"  
  
  
"Starving," Gohan agreed, his stomach rumbling as he spoke.  
  
  
The namekusei-jin scowled, having hoped for a different answer. Nervously he cracked his knuckles, then sighed, looking away from Gohan. "I....I tried to make something but.....it's not very good. I burned it. A little."  
  
  
Gohan stared at his mentor in surprise. Usually Piccolo stayed away from the kitchen as if it carried the plauge, only venturing in to make himself some tea- but cooking? He also noticed that Piccolo's face looked slightly strained and very tired...  
  
  
'Did he stay up all night waiting and taking care of me?' Gohan wondered mentally, staring at the namekusei-jin. 'He sure does look tired, and if he'd had plenty of time on his hands it partially explains the food...'  
  
  
Concious of Gohan's questioning stare, Piccolo scowled and started towards the door. "I'll go get it."  
  
  
'He did, he did!' Gohan decided, elation filling his chest. Piccolo cared enough to do that- maybe he was worried about where the saiya-jin was, or maybe he was even jealous! He wouldn't say, Gohan knew, but... that was something, wasn't it? A small something but something none the less?  
  
  
When the namekusei-jin returned with a tray in his hands, Gohan was grinning despite his pounding head.  
  
  
"Here," Piccolo said gruffly, handing Gohan the tray. There was toast- slightly burned, and a large saiya-jin sized bowl of soup. A plate of very charred waffles was next to that, two apples, and a pitcher of hot tea. Gohan grinned- Piccolo knew how much he ate, of course. You might want to be careful, I'm no good at that..."  
  
  
Gohan nodded as he looked over the meal, doubly aware of the delicacy of the moment- how often did Piccolo admit a weakness after trying something completely new just to make him happy? Gohan couldn't remember the last time, but the feelings that washed within his mind were all satisfied at the sudden change. "It looks fine! I'm not sure how you managed to burn the toast, since the toaster cooks it, but-"  
  
  
"What's a toaster?"  
  
  
The younger of the two blinked- how did one cook toast without a toaster? He had a feeling that it involved ki.... "That little metal box next to the coffee machine. Speaking of coffee, I could really use some right now," Coffee was a little-known luxury to Gohan- the scent of it sickened Piccolo, and so they avoided making it on most days, but today Gohan had a feeling that he wouldn't be walking around until several pitchers had been downed.  
  
  
"Coffee...right...." Piccolo said softly, trying not to let it show that he had no idea how to work the coffee maker. "I'll go get it."  
  
  
Gohan sat back and smiled broadly as Piccolo disappeared down the stairs. "I should get sick more often...."  
  
  
Piccolo, pausing at the landing, glanced back up but didn't return. "Maybe he should... nah... I wouldn't live through it."  
  
  
********  
  
  
Trunks stared at the clock, terrified. His whole morning had been centered around that one metallic object, it was his reason for living at the moment. The phone. The means by which Gohan would either contact him or...or...  
  
  
The lavender haired boy swallowed tightly. He knew Gohan, and knew him well- there were two possibilities- one being that Gohan wouldn't remember and would be embarrassed about his state the night before, and call to apologize. The other would be... Well, if he did remember, Trunks doubted Gohan would call.  
  
  
The phone had rung three times that morning. The first time Trunks had answered with the standard "Mushi Mushi, Capsule Corperation. This is Trunks..." The second time had been much shorter. "Capsule Corp, Trunks speaking." The third time around, Trunks had dove for the phone and answered with a quick "Yeah, this is Trunks-"  
  
  
Fortunately that last one had been his mother, not a potential customer. After a chiding that left his ears red, Trunks had taken a message for his father and hung up the phone, while Bra stared at him in surprise from the other side of the room. She too was waiting for a rather important call, and snapped at her brother for hogging the phone.  
  
  
Vegeta.  
  
  
Sighing, Trunks made sure he had his cellular with him (just in case) and made his way towards the gravity chamber where his father spent most of his days. No, correction- all of his days. While Trunks still sparred often enough to maintain a power level of super saiya-jin two, running the company ate away at most of his time. Fortunately, Vegeta had Gokou to release his pent-up rage on, and the two trained intensely for hours at a time.  
  
  
In fact, Trunks nearly ran into the aforemented guest as he wound his ways through the halls- the older saiya-jin looked nearly the same as he had in the days before Buu and Cell- his hair was spikey as ever, his face youthful, innocent, and completely nieve. Trunks spared a glance at the bulging shoulders and sweat-drenched gi the man was wearing, and nearly grinned despite the stress of his situation. He could almost see Gohan gazing at him through Gokou's black eyes...  
  
  
"Oi, Torunkusu!" Son Gokou waved and gave Trunks a playful punch in the shoulder. "Have you been training lately?"  
  
  
Trunks grimaced and shook his head. "Ano, with the company and everything-"  
  
  
"Ah, ah, ah! You really should spar with Goten sometime, he's been so lonely since he broke up with...with...what was her name? I can't remember-"  
  
  
"It's Bra, my younger sister," Trunks reminded him drolly.  
  
  
"Oh, yeah! He's got so many girlfriends- he reminds me of Yamcha!"  
  
  
Forcing a laugh (the tension in the sound was lost on Gokou) Trunks shrugged, glad Bra wasn't around to hear it. The relationship between his sister and Gohan's brother reminded most of the Z crew of Yamcha and Bulma...constant fighting masking deeper feelings... Very, very complicated. "Maybe I will if I have some free time-"  
  
  
"Hai, don't spend it all with Gohan!"  
  
  
Trunks nearly fell over, wondering just how much knowledge those words were meant to imply. "E-eh!?"  
  
  
"I think Goten's getting jealous of you always hanging out with his niichan," Gokou smiled, wiping a drop of sweat off the back of his neck before it could roll down between his shoulder blades.  
  
  
"Oh....well.....I'll do something with him, then..."  
  
  
"Haiiii, that's the spirit!" Gokou gave Trunks another friendly slap, sending the boy slamming into the wall at a rather uncomfortable angle. "I'll tell him you said hi, but right now I gotta hit the fridge..."  
  
  
"And maybe the showers too, Gokou-san?" the boy suggested candidly, knowing the other saiya-jin wouldn't take offense.   
  
  
"Maybe!"  
  
  
Trunks faked a laugh again, then turned and kept moving, scowling as soon as Gokou was out of sight around the corner. Damn, why did he have to look so much like his son? What was it about saiya-jin genes that recycled old looks again and again? Trunks wondered for a moment just how like Vegeta he looked, then dismissed the thought as he approached the gravity room.  
  
  
He glanced at the panel of settings and opened the door, stepping into a small room with glass doors. A moment passed as the door behind him closed and the tiny chamber's gravity multiplied to reach what Vegeta was training at, then a second set of doors opened and Trunks walked out into the main room.  
  
  
"Tousan!"  
  
  
Vegeta didn't spare him a glance.  
  
  
Trunks knew he had his father's attention anyway. "Tousan, mom wants to make sure you remember to be ready for the dinner this evening-"  
  
  
A moment passed, and Vegeta relaxed. "Stupid women. I hate formal affairs." Still, Trunks knew, Vegeta did enjoy the doting of the public- when people realized who's husband he was, the treated him with utter respect and care- something Trunks was sure Vegeta missed from his prince-ly days.  
  
  
Shrugging, the lavender-haired boy turned to leave. "That's all."  
  
  
He was almost to the door when Vegeta spoke again, toweling sweat off his bare chest as he regarded his son. "You were home late last night."  
  
  
"....yeah."  
  
  
"What do you see in him?"  
  
  
This time Trunks really did fall, slamming into the ground as the air rushed out of his lungs for a moment. When he sat up again, cradeling a bruised elbow, Vegeta continued. "The Gods must hate me- having both my brats infatuated with Kakarotto's spawn..."  
  
  
Trunks sweatdropped. Since when did Vegeta know?! Since when did he care?! "A-...I-.... tousan...."  
  
  
Vegeta moved over to him, throwing the towel down and watching his son with mild amusement, though it didn't show on his face. "It's even more pathetic with you and the older kid, considering you won't tell him anything."  
  
  
"T-tousan, you're...not...mad at me?" Trunks managed to choke the words out, shocked by his father's almost decent manner. He had taken so many careful precautions to keep his little crush a secret, but now....Now his father knew, what did that mean? And would he be angry, would he scold him?  
  
  
"Tch. Gaki." For a long stretch, nothing more was said, then "You're right though, he doesn't love you." That was it, then- a quick few words and all of Trunks' hopes were negated. "He's horribly done up with that green guy. Pikoro."  
  
  
Trunks stared at his hands, unsure of what to say. "I thought you would care more than this..."  
  
  
"You're just a kid. You have a long time to decide what you want to do with yourself. There's nothing wrong with what you are- saiya-jin are notoriously open to things of a sexual nature," Vegeta smirked, speaking the unusual words almost...wistfully? "And rutting saiya-jin will pounce on anything that moves."  
  
  
"I'm not rutting," Trunks said, thankful for that. The last time that had happened he had put half a planet between himself and Gohan and had still felt the urge to knock Piccolo unconcious and take the other man for his own.  
  
  
"I know. It says a lot for how you feel."  
  
  
That was all Vegeta had to say- the saiya-jin stood and moved away, forcing himself into another set of push-ups. Before he left, Trunks asked one more question.  
  
  
"Tousan....does mom know....?"  
  
  
Vegeta regarded him as if he were an idiot. "Hell, no, you think I would tell her?!"  
  
  
"Thanks, dad."  
  
  
Smirking, the other saiya-jin performed a quick twenty pushups on one arm. "Oh, and Trunks..."  
  
  
"Hai?"  
  
  
"Pick up your mess before you go."  
  
  
"Mess....?"  
  
  
Glancing down, Trunks watched a few chunks of black plastic tinkle out of his pockets. "What the hell...?" It took a moment for him to realize that those malformed pieces were the last of his cellular phone. "Oh! DAMNIT!"  
  
  
Grinning, Vegeta went back to his training. 


	4. Dissent in the Ranks

"No answer," Gohan said softly as he hung the phone up again. After two cups of liquid energy and four asprins he was feeling good enough to sit up and watch Piccolo as the namekusei-jin deftly stiched up a hole in one of his fighting gi's. "What do you think that means?"  
  
  
"Well, maybe he's at work," Piccolo grunted, not really caring where the hell Trunks was. One thing his night of brooding had convinced him was that the demi-saiya-jin was not someone to be trusted or liked. That brief exchange of tension-filled words at the doorway of his home had left Piccolo with a very, very different opinion of Trunks' motives.  
  
  
"No work today, it's sunday," Gohan shook his head, then reached for his coffee after glancing at the clock- 11:40 and he still wasn't out of bed! Piccolo watched his student through narrow eyes as the boy took a sip and smiled, letting the steam wreath his face- he looked so young like this....  
  
  
"Maybe he's making up for what he missed yesterday," Piccolo said, his voice a great deal colder than it had been before. "while you two were out cavorting around the town."  
  
  
"Hmm," Gohan considered it before taking another sip. If he noticed Piccolo's abrupt shift in tone, he didn't respond to it at all. "Maybe. I think I'll call him at the office."  
  
  
Rolling his eyes, Piccolo waited for the phone call to end, thinking to himself. This sudden shift of talking and showing affection was grating on his nerves, all his mental barriers were struggling to remain in place- he was nervous. Even though he had known Gohan so well for so many years, he was nervous around him...  
  
  
Like a schoolboy.  
  
  
Piccolo grunted in disapproval as Gohan hang up again- "No answer at all. Where could he be?"  
  
  
"I don't care..."  
  
  
"Pikoro-san, come on..." Gohan sounded confused by the sudden change in demeanor- Piccolo was ignoring him again. Why? "I feel really responsible for last night. I have to apologize..."  
  
  
The gi was done, and Piccolo said nothing as he folded the cloth and tossed it on the nightstand- Gohan regarded him for a moment before sighing. "What should I do? You're my mentor, my...my lover, please Pikoro-san, help me!"  
  
  
Piccolo just turned and headed towards the door, satisfied that Gohan was suitably recovered from his little bout with alchohol the night before- the words were out before he could stop them. "I think you should forget all about him."  
  
  
The door creaked as he went past, but didn't close, and Gohan was left in the darkened room to stew over what had just happened. For a few minutes the world had been brilliant, and if Trunks had answered the phone Gohan knew he had almost been truly happy. When was the last time that had happened?  
  
  
Of course. His first time with Piccolo. The happiest moment of his life.  
  
  
*************  
  
  
Piccolo himself thunked down the stairs, a scowl spread across his face- that was normal, he was closing up again and he knew it. Yes, Gohan had been happy back there in the room, but that sort of open trust scared Piccolo to the bone. How could he give Gohan all of himself? If he trusted the boy and gave himself completely, it would give Gohan a sight of all the horror inside his mind, the memories-  
  
  
His father's mass murders, his own killings, a thousand lies and injuries and hates that would never, could never be healed-  
  
  
Shuddering, the namekusei-jin paused at the bottom of the stairwell and looked around darkly. He didn't feel like training, he was too confused to meditate, so that left one option- he ventured into the kitchen (ignoring the burnt remains of his first three attempts at making Gohan breakfast that were smeared across the ceiling and table) and over to the stove. He lit the gas and soon the stove was on- in moments, a teakettle was perched on the metallic prongs over the flame.  
  
  
A pungent odor of charred food wafted up from the burner, but Piccolo ignored it. Sure, tea could easily be made by heating water with his ki, but somehow this ritual was relaxing. Almost like meditation...it made sense, though, habit was a sort of soothing element-  
  
  
He wiped a seat clean of ashes and sat, thinking dully. Okay, point one-  
  
  
'Gohan is unhappy.'  
  
  
Point two.  
  
  
'Trunks is obviously the enemy.'  
  
  
Point three.  
  
  
'I have no earthly idea how to keep him around, and I have nobody to turn to.'  
  
  
There. That was it. Those were the facts.  
  
  
'And four, I'm to afraid to show him anymore of my soul. He knows me as a mentor and a teacher, someone 'good' and brave to be looked up to. He doesn't know anything about my childhood or what I went through, he doesn't realize the hatred I nursed for eight long years... And if he learned, how could he still love me? How could anyone love that?'  
  
  
He set his head in his hands. It was too confusing to figure out, a thousandand one variables that were different and new and frightening. Above all that was the fear of losing his lover to Trunks, but how could he stop it? And even worse, if Gohan would be happy with Trunks, wouldn't it be better just to let him go...?  
  
  
"I can't," he whispered. "I can never let him go."  
  
  
The kettle left off a shrill whistle that made the namekusei-jin jerk with surprise. After a moment he stood and finished preparing his tea.  
  
  
Not ten seconds after he had sat down again, the doorbell rang.  
  
  
Hesitantly, Piccolo and made his way to the door. For a moment he considered ignoring whoever it was, but then recalled what Gohan had done the last time he had tried that (Piccolo had slept on the couch for a week) and then decided against it.  
  
  
Quickly he undid the deadbolt and opened the door to see-  
  
  
Trunks stuffed a handful of flowers behind his back as Piccolo's face appeared in the doorway, and he struggled to speak. "E-er....Pikoro-san, I need to talk to Gohan...it's about last night..."  
  
  
Piccolo's visage darkened until he was glaring at Trunks, a look that said 'I only tolerate you because he does, and if you take one wrong step with me I'll rip out your lungs and make you eat them whole.' He said nothing, though.  
  
  
"Can I come in?"  
  
  
The namekusei-jin turned and growled. "Stay the hell away from my house, and my Gohan."  
  
  
The door slammed, and Trunks stood rooted to the spot. Had Piccolo figured that much out already? After a few seconds of silence Trunks started pounding on the door, shouting for permission to enter. He tried the knob, but Piccolo had locked him out-  
  
  
Piccolo smirked and turned return to his tea, but Gohan appeared at the top of the stairs in nothing but his boxers and one of Piccolo's shirts, rubbing his eyes with one hand. "Eh? Pikoro-san, who was it?"  
  
  
"An insurance agent," Piccolo muttered as he picked up his tea and a copy of the morning paper.  
  
  
Gohan listened closely at the muffled shouts coming from outside, then sweatdropped, glancing from his mentor to the door. "OI! That sounds like Torunkusu...!"  
  
  
The namekusei-jin took a sip of his tea without looking up from his reading material. "Does it?"  
  
  
Jumping down the stairs, Gohan undid the lock and opened the door, just in time for Trunks to fall inwards on top of him- he had been leaning against the door, and the door had suddenly disappeared....  
  
  
Piccolo looked up again to see Trunks pinning Gohan to the floor, both of them blushing.  
  
  
That was too much. Wordlessly he jumped up and scanned the room, then picked up a chair, and smashed Trunks over the head with it. Broken wood and torn flowers flew everywhere as Trunks collapsed, unconcious, still draped over Gohan's chest.  
  
  
A moment of silence passed, then-  
  
  
"PIKORO-SAAAAAN!!!!!"  
  
  
Gohan struggled to his knees, holding Trunks' head in his arms, a terrified look across his face as blood trickled down from beneath the lavender hair of the other boy. "TORUNKUSU! TORUNKUSUUUU!" he shook the other demi-saiya-jin roughly, but Trunks didn't wake up. "P-Pikoro-san, how could you!?"  
  
  
Piccolo looked away, arms folded across his chest.  
  
  
"Help me, please, we have to get him up the stairs!"  
  
  
He still didn't move.  
  
  
Finally, Gohan lifted his friend and flew up off the ground, gingerly carrying him into the bedroom he shared with his mentor.  
  
  
By the time Piccolo decided to follow the pair, Gohan had stripped off Trunks's shirt and had the saiya-jin boy on his stomach. Already a cross-crossing of blackening bruises could be seen, as well as a thousand splinters and a bleeding headwound that looked particularly nasty. Piccolo was about to protest the boy's being in his bed, but Gohan gave him a look that said 'say anything and you'll be on the couch for weeks.'  
  
  
Instead of speaking, he lit up another cigarette, making Gohan frown darkly. "Pikoro-san, don't do that."  
  
  
"Eh?"  
  
  
"Smoking. It's disgusting."  
  
  
Piccolo made a point of inhaling deeply and gusting a bit of smoke out his nose, while   
Gohan started looking angrier. "Pikoro, I've been meaning to talk to you about that...it's not healthy, you're ruining your lungs!"  
  
  
The namekusei-jin regarded the cigarette in his hands for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, they're mine to ruin."  
  
  
"What about me, huh!? That smoke is hurting me too!"  
  
  
"Fine. I'll smoke downstairs."  
  
  
The door slammed behind him as he left Gohan alone with Trunks.  
  
  
************  
  
  
"Hmph," Gohan glared at the door and twisted a corner of the bedsheets in his hand angrily. "Who does he think he is? Don't I have any say in his habits?! He's going to get himself killed, and not even in a fight!"  
  
  
Trunks groaned from the pillow, and Gohan squeaked in surprise. After a few seconds, Trunks' eyes flickered open, and he regarded Gohan with an adoring look in his eyes. "G...G-Gohan, what....." he winced as he tried to move, "happened...?"  
  
  
"Pikoro-san hit you with a chair," Gohan said tiredly. "I don't know why. You landed on me and he just went off...." From the look on Gohan's face, Trunks decided that Piccolo was definately in the doghouse, so to speak. "I'll have him apologize. Don't worry."  
  
  
The lavender-haired boy licked his lips and tried to speak. "Where....?"  
  
  
"My room. I don't think you can go home like this....so...why not stay here with me and Pikoro until you feel up to leaving? I feel so guilty about this../\."  
  
  
For a moment Trunks couldn't feel any luckier- he wanted to leap up and wrap Gohan in his arms, but he shoved the urge aside. "I....hai....I feel okay....." Saiya-jin genes healed fast, Trunks knew, but he was very good at playing injured.  
  
  
"No, no, stay here. I'll be downstairs, yell if you need anything, okay?"  
  
  
"H-hai..."  
  
  
Gohan smiled weakly. "I have to talk to Pikoro."  
  
  
***************  
  
  
When Gohan found the namekusei-jin, he was propped up the couch, reading a paper. On one hand was perched a cigarette and in the other a can of beer-  
  
  
Gohan's eyebrow twitched as he came up behind his mentor, fuming. "Pikoro-san!? Drinking...? You shouldn't do that! I hate that! Is this ALL YOU DO ALL DAY?!" Deftly he reached out, snatched the can of beer, and looked at it distastefully. "I can't believe this! You attack my friends and then come down here and destroy yourself!"  
  
  
Piccolo's eyes narrowed. "Give that back!"  
  
  
"NO! I WON'T!"  
  
  
The cigarette was gingerly set against the ashtray, still burning as Piccolo leapt up and made a dive for Gohan, trying to snatch the can out of his hands. "NO!" The boy shouted, furious. "YOU CAN'T HAVE THIS BACK! YOU'RE GONNA APOLOGIZE TO TRUNKS, THROW THIS CRAP AWAY, AND START BEING RESPONSIBLE!"  
  
  
Trying to pry Gohan's fingers off the can was hard, even when he was pinned to the carpet below. Piccolo struggled with him for a moment, then noticed his position, and grinned. It was easy to get ahold of his arms, and in moments Gohan was completely pinned, unable to move his arms or legs.  
  
  
Piccolo smirked and leaned in, kissing him roughly and using his one free hand to peel off Gohan's shirt. The boy howled when he realized what was happening, dropping the beer can in his struggle to get free.  
  
  
The namekusei-jin kissed him again, then moved down, the smooth skin of Gohan's neck pale against his dark lips as he bit him gently with his delicately pointed fangs. Gohan was trembling violently, half trying to escape and half loving the sensation and hating himself for that-  
  
  
"Pikoro-SAN!"  
  
  
His voice cracked as Piccolo began kissing down his chest, his fingers running across the boy's washboard stomach, tracing over the lines of muscle that he knew like the back of his hand.  
  
  
"YAMERO! LET ME GO!"  
  
  
Though he tried not to show it, Gohan sucked in his breath in anticipation as the top of his jeans was undone, then-  
  
  
A sharp pain slammed into the side of his head, and Gohan blinked for a moment as the world spun, trying to get his bearings. What had happened? It took him a few moments to realize that Piccolo had hit him-  
  
  
The sound of a can opening fizzed in the silence, and Gohan understood. A distraction. It had been a cruel, cruel distraction that not only won Piccolo the battle but also left Gohan standing there, wanting more, more more- "YOU BASTARD! HOW-"  
  
  
"Don't try that again," Piccolo warned him, plucking his cigarette up again and taking a deep breath.  
  
  
The demi-saiya-jin didn't know what to do. He stood, shaking as the tears beaded up behind his eyes and began spilling down his cheeks. He had been angry before, but not like this, not so furious with Piccolo that he wanted him gone forever- it wasn't just the smoking, just the drinking, just Trunks, it was so many months of so little attention all combining into one desperate moment-  
  
  
Gohan turned and ran for the door, letting himself out into the mountain air. He picked a random direction and ran. 


	5. War is Declared

Authors note- Here's a quick clarification as to why Gohan is only four years younger than Piccolo (a few people have asked me about this!)  
  
  
Piccolo was spit out by his father in Dragonball.  
*  
Three years later is the 23rd Tenkaichi Budoukai in which he fights Gokou and loses.  
*  
Five years later, Dragonball starts!  
*  
Gohan was four when Piccolo began to train him. (He says five in the dub, but no, it's four!!)  
*  
That means eight years have gone by, so Piccolo is eight, and Gohan is four! You could argue that Piccolo's mind is older than that because he shares his dad's memories, but I consider Ma Jr. to be a totally different person than his tousan...  
*  
And now back to our regularly scheduled angst-ing.  
  
  
  
***********  
  
Trunks observed Gohan's fleeing figure through the window of his upstairs room, a smile tracing across his face. It hadn't been hard to overhear the conversation taking place below, and now... 'How can I take advantage of this fight?' he wondered, drumming his fingertips on the windowsill. 'I'll follow him and see what I can see...'  
  
  
It was cool outside, but Trunks didn't mind. He had taken a sheet from off the bed Gohan had laid him in and wrapped it around his shoulders as he escaped from the house, following the older man's footsteps like a hound bent on it's prey.  
  
  
Gohan had left a trail behind him, carelessly pushing his way through thickets of brush and meadows of harsh grey stones. Of course, leaving a trail was hardly the man's main worry at the moment, Trunks decided, but it was certainly helpful for him. He came across Gohan at last- the halfbreed saiya-jin was sitting silently, curled up in a small ball underneath a tree. His bulky muscles weren't meant to be compressed, so the pathetic manner in which he had set his forehead on his knees was quite unnatural looking. Trunks bit back a swear when he realized Gohan was crying- Damn Piccolo for hurting him like this, damn him! Gohan deserved so much better...  
  
  
A wave of dizziness enveloped Trunks, making him stagger slightly as he approached the other man- Gohan sensed the nearness of another ki and glanced up, quickly scrubbing the tears   
from his eyes. "T...Torunkusu...y..you shouldn't be out here, you're hurt!"  
  
  
"Nah, I'm fine," Trunks struggled not to let his voice quaver as he seated himself next to Gohan in the shade of the tree- "I saw you running out of the house and I....I overheard your fight. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have listened in-"  
  
  
"It must have been hard not to hear," Gohan whispered, bitterly. "We were both screaming our heads off. I'm stupid. Stupid."  
  
  
"Why is that?" Trunks found himself torn between helping Gohan and helping to sully Piccolo's hold on the other man.  
  
  
"Because I.....Gods, look at me, Trunks! Here I am crying over this when I haven't even apologized for last night-"  
  
  
The lavender haired saiya-jin feld his heart freeze up within his chest. Damn! The one thing he didn't want to talk about had just been thrown in his face! "L-last night..."  
  
  
"Hai..I..I must have really embarrased you, Trunks...I just...Look at me, I'm mad at Pikoro for drinking but I'm no better than him...I was so upset, and I didn't mean to get drunk...what did they do at the restaraunt? They didn't throw us out, did they? I'm dumb, making someone as important as you look bad-"  
  
  
"Eh?" Trunks was barely able to supress the shock and joy in his tone. "You mean....You don't remember?"  
  
  
Gohan was blushing, now, and looking away from the other man. "No," he said softly, "I remember drinking about four...four...what are they called?"  
  
  
"Shots. You really can't hold your alchohol, Gohan-kun, but it's alright. I'm your friend, if I'm not around to listen when you get weepy and drunk, what am I here for?"  
  
  
A weak smile threaded it's way across Gohan's face. "Thanks, Trunks..."  
  
  
"At the moment I'm more worried about you than I am about any threatening phone calls from the restaraunt. A bit of a...well, a bribe will wipe the records clean. You'd be surprised at what money can buy! But anyway, are you alright?"  
  
  
"Just disgusted at myself and how well he knows me...just angry at him for being so damned untouchable..." Gohan sighed, setting his head in his hands and massaging his temples. "You didn't see what he did, Trunks! He completely took advantage of how much I love him! And that's the only reason why I care what he does to himself, you know, doesn't he...why can't he see?"  
  
  
"Well, Gohan, I think that if he really loves you, he should be able to change for your sake. I mean, I always thought lovers should be willing to do anything for one another, right?"  
  
  
For a moment the comment hung in the air, making Gohan look even more miserable than before as he digested what it implied. "Yeah," he breathed softly, tears trickling down his face. "Yeah, that's probably right. But...."  
  
  
Trunks paused a moment before daring to wrap his arms around the other man's shoulders. Gohan responded by burying his face against Trunks' neck, sobbing almost hystericly. "I...I just want him...to look at me like I look at him... to just feel like I do, to show it, just once...Gods, I'm so weak..."  
  
  
Unconciously Trunks stroked back his love's hair, not wanting the moment to end. "It's okay, it's okay, you don't have to be strong all of the time..."  
  
  
Gohan cried, soaking his shirt, but Trunks didn't mind. All he wanted was for that moment to last forever. "You're a person, not an object. Maybe Pikoro doesn't know that."  
  
  
The other man didn't move. "I just....I just...."  
  
  
"Like I said, Gohan, if he loved you, he would change, wouldn't he?"  
  
  
Finally, Gohan pulled away, nodding quietly. He had stopped sobbing, but still looked scared by what he had decided to do. "Yes. Maybe I approached him in the wrong way...Sankyuu....Trunks, I'm gonna go talk to him again. Do you need help getting home?"  
  
  
"I'll just come with you."  
  
  
***********  
  
Trunks slumped against the wall at the top of the stairs, listening. Gohan had helped him back to the house, and now a confrontation was about to take place downstairs. Trunks was sure Piccolo would never give up his earthly pleasures for Gohan, so this would be the perfect time to score some points with his chosen.  
  
  
Quietly, he knelt on the carpet and listened.  
  
  
Gohan cleared his throat, gazing at the back of his lover's head and trying to build his courage. 'It'll be okay,' he told himself, 'Just remember what Trunks said! If he loves you, he'll change! He loves me.' "Pikoro-san..."  
  
  
Piccolo's face registered surprise, but it flickered for just a moment and was gone when Gohan came around to face him. "Pikoro-san, can I talk to you?"  
  
  
Of course he could. Piccolo folded his paper and set it down on the table before him, showing that he was listening. Gohan smiled weakly and sat down next to him, studying his hands for a moment before speaking. "I........."  
  
  
Piccolo quirked an antennae.  
  
  
"Gomen nasai, Pikoro-sama," Gohan whispered. "I'm sorry about earlier. I...I shouldn't have...I just....."  
  
  
Trunks groaned to himself. From the sound of it, Gohan was crying again, which would undoubtedly affect the outcome of this conversation.  
  
  
"I'm just afraid for you, because... you're hurting yourself when you smoke or...or drink, and I'm so afraid, because...w-where would I be w-without you?! It scares me- I didn't mean to sound so bratty this morning, but...If you really love me, you'd change, it...it hurts..."  
  
  
There. It was out. Gohan took a deep breath as tears started spattering his shirt, not daring to meet Piccolo's eyes as the namekusei-jin thought over his words. They were lovers, and yet he sometimes felt like he really didn't know his mentor as well as he thought he did... Piccolo was intimidating and bold, agressive and quiet... Gohan's polar opposite.  
  
  
For a moment silence filled the room, seeping into Gohan's bones as Piccolo didn't answer him. At last, Piccolo moved, and Gohan watched through his bangs as long, thick green fingers plucked the cigarrette from his lips and smashed against the small ashtray on the table.  
  
  
Gohan felt his heart pounding with relief. "Pikoro-san-!"  
  
  
Gently, he felt himself being pulled towards Piccolo, until the namekusei-jin had him firmly entrapped within his massive arms. Setting his chin on the boy's neck, Piccolo whispered softly in his ear. "I have a habit of overreacting. Forgive me?"  
  
  
It wasn't quite an apology, but Gohan felt like he had won the day. "O...Of course, Pikoro-san..." He smiled, settling against his mentor's chest. "Thank you, thank you..."  
  
  
Piccolo's only response was to softly kiss Gohan's neck.  
  
  
******  
  
  
Trunks was in an extremely bad mood when he came down for dinner that night. Half of him wanted to stay up in his room, but he wanted to keep an eye on Gohan and Piccolo while they were watchable- it would be much easier to break them up if they weren't all over each other all the time. Maybe having a guest would keep Piccolo's hands off his student...  
  
  
The kitchen had taken hours for Gohan to clean- his namekusei-jin lover's cooking skills were not only minimal, but he didn't take cleaning up to be part of the job. Despite that, Gohan had managed to shine the kitchen until it was spotless, as well as fix a massive dinner that was more than large enough for two demi-saiya-jin. Since Gohan had worked so hard, Trunks felt like he had to at least eat something....  
  
  
Sitting down at the table, he felt extremely out of place. Piccolo kept glaring at him over the top of the newspaper he seemed to always be reading, while Gohan stuffed his face, pausing occasionally to ask Trunks a question or tell Piccolo something about his job. Finally Trunks broke his quiet streak, glaring back at Piccolo. "Well, Gohan, you must be glad to have someone around to appreciate your excellent cooking, huh?"  
  
  
Gohan smiled, unaware of the tension at the table. Sometimes he seemed so much like his father that it was frightening! That daft Son look that all of Gokou's descendents seemed to share... "It sure is! Pikoro-san never tries anything new. Do you like the meal?"  
  
  
"It's wonderful!" Trunks beamed, sensing an area of pride that could well be exploited. "The best I've ever had. You give your mom a run for her money when it comes to delicious foods..."  
  
  
The demi-saiya-jin's face lit up with pleasure at the compliment. "Aa....sankyuu, Trunks-kun..." he beamed, blushing quietly. For a moment Piccolo was silent, scowling at Trunks' comment before he namekusei-jin spoke. Trunks was so obviously trying to 'win' this little battle at dinner, and Piccolo would be damned before he let a saiya-jin take advantage of his relationship...  
  
  
"If it's that good, get me a plate." Piccolo murmered, sounding careless though the manner in which he was smirking at Trunks proved his emotions to be otherwise. Gohan stared at him in shock, jaw hanging open as if Piccolo had just told him the world was flat.  
  
  
"P....Pikoro-san....!?" the younger man finally managed to squeak, "What-"  
  
  
"I said I'd like a plate...if there's enough."  
  
  
Gohan looked like he'd been run through with an arrow, shock playing across his features as he struggled to respond coherently. "But you can't eat, Pikoro-san!"  
  
  
Clearing his throat in the silence, Piccolo shrugged. "I can if I want to. I simply don't usually, because it seems to be a waste of time to me and I get everything I need from water...but...You love cooking and you love eating. I've always been curious about what you saw in it-"  
  
  
Gohan felt rather faint, but gave his mentor a loving grin and nearly leapt up out of his chair, eager to please. "HAI! Pikoro-san...I...this is great! I'll fix you a plate, just one second! I just know you'll love this..." He dashed out of the room, flushing and grinning- happier than he had been in a very long time.  
  
  
Trunks watched Gohan disappear into the kitchen and sighed. He had been close that time, but so far he hadn't made any headway in taking Piccolo out of the picture! If anything, this attempt to come between them seemed to be pulling Piccolo and Gohan closer together...  
  
  
For a moment, the dining room was silent.  
  
  
Then Piccolo spoke.  
  
  
"I know what you're trying to do," he said darkly, staring at Trunks with a piercing gaze, "and it won't work."  
  
  
Trunks swallowed, and brushed a bit of hair out of his eyes. "What do you mean...?"  
  
  
"He's mine."  
  
  
The lavender haired demi-saiya-jin narrowed his eyes slightly. He hadn't realized that Piccolo was that perceptive. Long years of watching the relationship between Piccolo and Gohan grow, then die, had taught Trunks that there was nothing solid behind the namekusei-jin's feelings. He was sure that if Piccolo cared, he couldn't possibly treat Gohan the way he did. Of course, Trunks knew even less of Piccolo's past then Gohan did...  
  
  
"Gohan isn't happy with you..."  
  
  
"I give him everything he needs."  
  
  
"What?! You're kidding! He's miserable! You treat him like a toy, like a pet! Why do you think he went out and got drunk with me!? Because he's being driven into depression by your selfish habits! I can make him happy, and I will do just that," Trunks growled.  
  
  
"Nobody challenges my posession of him and gets away unhurt," Piccolo snarled. "And believe me, as soon as I can get you out of here without hurting him, you'll never see my Gohan again."  
  
  
Trunks and Piccolo sat in a very bitter, tense silence until Gohan returned, both of them fuming over one thought and one alone-  
  
  
'This means war.' 


	6. Through Sickness and Evil

Chapter Six  
  
"A...aaa....augh...."  
  
  
Gohan's face twisted slightly as Piccolo's shoulders heaved again, his expression a mixture of guilt and disgust. "Pikoro-san," he murmered, masaging the thick, tense muscles beneath his hands. "Sh, sh, it's okay... I'm so sorry, so sorry...."  
  
  
Wiping a bit of vomit off his chin, Piccolo leaned back, groaning. "No..it's not your fault," he repeated for the hundreth time, closing his eyes while his belly throbbed in agony.  
  
  
"Damn it, Pikoro-san, yes it is! I'm the one that served you such a huge meal..."  
  
  
Piccolo closed his eyes- "I wanted you to know how much I liked it. I shouldn't have eaten it all."  
  
  
"But...but it's my fault, you've been sick for three days!"  
  
  
Sighing as Gohan pressed a cup of water against his lips, Piccolo shrugged. "I've gone my whole life without eating, and I gorged once. It's my stupidity, I should have known my system wouldn't be able to handle that."  
  
  
"Do you want to go back to bed?"  
  
  
"I'd rather take a shower," he sighed. Gohan immediately stood and turned on the water, helping Piccolo stand by wrapping an arm around his waist and holding him steady. Silently the namekusei-jin peeled off his shirt and pants, then chucked his boxers over one shoulder and stepped into the tub. Gohan had to keep him from slipping once, but after a few moments Piccolo was safely in the water, and Gohan settled on the toilet's lid.  
  
  
Piccolo sighed and settled back, feeling the water swirl about his body- he had been sick for the last few days, and everything had been blurred together by his illness. He could recall Gohan staying near him the entire time, and Trunks....Trunks? Piccolo frowned slightly- if he couldn't remember what Trunks had been speaking to Gohan about, he wouldn't know what to be careful about.  
  
  
But, oh, this reminded him of the only other time he had been sick-  
  
  
Splash.  
  
  
For a moment his dizzy mind wasn't sure what had happened, then he realized, as he felt a pair of hands on his back once again, that Gohan had jumped into the bathtub behind him. Piccolo opened his mouth to speak, but Gohan shushed him and began kneading the flesh between his fingertips.  
  
  
It felt so good....Piccolo sighed involuntarily and leaned back against the hands, feeling himself relax ever-so-slightly, then more, then at last, sleep was approaching. For a moment he fought it, half of him was too proud to succumb to the sweetness of the moment, but the other half was filled with wanting to remain there, wrapped in Gohan's arms forever. He couldn't help it- his eyes closed, and he felt the hands pause and a soft cheek press against his back before sleep claimed him.  
  
  
The dream came.  
  
  
  
  
**********  
  
  
  
  
It was hot, sticky, and achingly dry. A young, young Piccolo was staggering through the forest, dead leaves crunching beneath his feet- the sun overhead burned down against his flesh, eating through his will-  
  
  
Stagger onwards, a little more. So close.  
  
  
He fell to his knees, sweaty face sticking to the dirt below. Unable to breath.  
  
  
'No, not like this. I will kill Son Gokou.' That thought was like precious ice in the pit of his stomach- he had to kill Son Gokou. He had to squeeze the life out of his father's killer. He had to reclaim the throne he was destined to have.  
  
  
Suck in the steaming air, choke, sit up.  
  
  
'It won't be like this.'  
  
  
He wiped his eyes and stared around. Water. Sweet water. Where could it be? I only he could fly, if only he wasn't so far from the world, if only his father's memories would drain away and disappear forever-  
  
  
-if only-  
  
  
Piccolo stood, reaching for a handfull of dried leaves. Stuffing them in his mouth he forced himself to chew, his teeth unused to the action and his jaw quickly tiring he mashed the dusty things into a bland pulp, tasting the slightest hint of an acrid juice between his gums.  
  
  
Liquid.  
  
  
He reached out again, stripping bushes of their leaves, filling his stomach with the wild grasses that his body was stretched out on under the burning sun-  
  
  
He barely noticed the first tremors within his stomach, frantic as he was for something edible, but after minutes had passed it became worse until he could scarcely move for the burning in his gut.  
  
  
Oh, god, it hurt.  
  
  
Curling up around himself Piccolo felt tears in his eyes. 'Damn you, Son Gokou, if my father had survived I would be a prince...'  
  
  
He vomited, green and red, tinged with blood. It stank in the heat, mixing with his sweat and the scent of crushed leaves.  
  
  
Piccolo closed his eyes, but did not have the strength to heal his pains. Not after training for hours in the heat, fainting, coming to and trying to find water, unable to fly, breathe, move, think-  
  
  
Never before had he felt so alone.  
  
  
The next thing he knew, the sun was gone out of the sky. Stars appeared overhead, he could see them through the branches. He tried throw up again, but only managed to rid himself of pastey leaves and stomach acid, leaving his throat raw and burning.  
  
  
Keep moving, Ma Jr.  
  
  
He stood.  
  
  
It's amazing, really, what the body can do when death looms near. Piccolo began the hardest march of his life, dragging his way through thorns and stones, forcing his legs to take one more step, then-  
  
  
As his legs gave out beneath him after another three hours of trudging, wretching and panting, Piccolo shifted forwards and fell, half sliding and half rolling down the hill he had been perched on. Hitting a tree, he bounced sideways, feeling ribs break, then-  
  
  
The land gave out beneath him- air, then-  
  
  
-splash-  
  
  
Piccolo found himself struggling one last time in the midst of a cool stream. He choked for a moment on the water in his lungs, kicking weakly towards the surface. After a few seconds he reached air and gulped it in, heart thundering in his chest.  
  
  
There. Shore. Safety. It took what felt like hours for him to reach the precious burnt land again with his wooden limbs and broken ribs and body that refused to respond. When he finally sunk his fingers into the mud Piccolo was completely spent. Franticly he scooped a handful of water to his lips and drank, drank, drank.  
  
  
He threw it all up.  
  
  
When that had happened, he tried to control himself, his swollen toungue begging for more while he forced himself to wait, to drink and then let his stomach settle before indulging again, and it worked. After a few minutes of sweet bliss, he realized that even while he rested the sun beat down. Quickly the namekusei-jin smeared mud across his sunburned face, the coolness of it a blessing after days of endless wandering.  
  
  
When he had the strength he shoved himself away from the bank and found a tree overhanging the water. Curling up beneath it he waited for the agony within him to die away and for his strength to return...  
  
  
For he was Piccolo and this, despite the pain it had caused him, was surely a sign from Gods or Devils that nothing would ever destroy him.  
  
  
  
  
**********  
  
  
  
When the namekusei-jin opened his eyes again it was dark outside, and the pain in his stomach was gone. Hesitantly at first he sat up and looked around, his body protesting the movement after so many twisted, dream-filled days of rest. The room was empty of people, and Piccolo swung his legs up over the edge of the bed and stood, unsteadily. He lifted one arm, twisted once, and nodded, satisfied that he was suitably healed.  
  
  
Glancing at the clock told him that is was almost midnight, but of what day? Silently Piccolo glanced around and found a pair of jeans- pulling them on, he moved out of the room. As he stepped down the stairs, Piccolo reflected on the last time he had been sick and how different it was now. How many years had he wasted away with nobody to care for him? How many times had the only thing supporting his soul been the hatred he once harbored for Son Gokou?  
  
  
Ah, Gokou. The man who had once been Piccolo's most hated enemy, whose son was his greatest love.  
  
  
Piccolo reached the bottom of the stairs and froze.  
  
  
The only thing in his line of sight was the sofa in the living room, and the two beings on it. Gohan was stretched out, fast asleep, his head in Trunks' lap. Trunks himself had wrapped his arms about Gohan's figure, and was asleep as well.  
  
  
Everthing inside Piccolo bristled with fury. His first instinct was to come up behind Trunks and crush his skull.  
  
  
'Calm down, Gohan wouldn't like that, calm down!' he told himself. Still, the urge to kill the one being who dared to touch *his* Gohan was overwhelming, heady like wine and twice as dangerous.  
  
  
Piccolo took a step forward, then moved around to the front of the couch, swallowing back his hatred and staring in dismay at the interlocked figures. 'You're paranoid, he's just asleep.'  
  
  
That was when Trunks opened his eyes, a smirk playing across his lips. He grinned viciously at Piccolo and then gave Gohan's cheek a loving carress.  
  
  
Piccolo fumed, not knowing what to do. If he hurt Trunks again Gohan would be furious with him, but to just stand by and watch the man he loved be touched by another was torment. Wake up, Gohan! He wanted to scream, to break something, to shatter glass, but instead-  
  
  
He turned and stalked out of the house.  
  
  
***  
  
Gohan woke up early the next morning with a cramp in his neck, but in otherwise good spirits. It was still dark out as he pulled away from Trunks and sat up. The night before had been harder than normal for him, he felt awful for making Piccolo sick, yet still worried about his overall relationship with the namekusei-jin  
  
  
And Trunks had listened, had let him pour his heart out and not thinking him weak. What an incredible thing! It was so different from Piccolo's closed, detached attitude that Gohan almost didn't know what to think. How strange it had been to feel someone's arms around him as he cried, it had been an incredible feeling, Trunks had just...just cared, that was all. But Piccolo never gave him that, never let him cry without commenting darkly, and that made Trunks' sweet attitude all the more inviting.  
  
  
He stretched and smiled at the memories. Now that Trunks was staying with them he could get to know the younger man even better...  
  
  
Making his way towards the stairs, Gohan trotted up to check on his mentor and lover. He noticed immediately that the bedroom door was open, but peered inside anyway- Piccolo wasn't there. Gohan pressed a hand against the sheets- they were cold, had been empty for hours. So where was Piccolo?  
  
  
Exiting the room, Gohan looked down the hallway to his right and shook his head. The only place Piccolo would go was the gravity room behind their house, but surely... Not so soon after he'd been sick!  
  
  
Then again, this was Piccolo he was thinking of...  
  
  
Gohan dashed to the end of the hall and unlocked the door, stepping out onto the thin balcony that wrapped around the upper floor of the house. He quickly jumped down and moved to the gravity room, nestled in a grove of massive trees, some still charred from previous outdoor sparring episodes.  
  
  
Sure enough, the light next to the door was red- occupied. Gohan palmed the door anyway and stepped into the pressurizing room, watching his mentor train in split form while the gravity increased in the small, seperate chamber with a soft hissing noise.  
  
  
Piccolo noticed Gohan immediately, and though he didn't lessen his training, his mind raced. What should he do? Confront him about sleeping near Trunks? Ignore it and pretend he'd never seen that?  
  
  
Or maybe he should remind Gohan just who he had agreed to spend his life with....  
  
  
All in all, that seemed like the best action, Piccolo decided. By the time Gohan had adjusted to the gravity inside the room, both of Piccolo's forms were staring at him, waiting. The demi-saiya-jin stepped into the main body of the room and sweatdropped. "Pikoro-san, what are you doing in here?! You've been sick!"  
  
  
"I got better," the Piccolo on the right told him, his voice low and inviting.  
  
  
"So I've been making up for my laziness in the last few days," the other smirked, moving around until he was on the opposite side of Gohan. "But there are other things I want to make up for too..."  
  
  
Gohan swallowed, warmth filling his body at the promise held in his mentor's tone. There was no doubt in his mind of what Piccolo intended, but to give in would mean to miss work for the fourth day in a row-  
  
  
"Pikoro-san, if you're better I'm going to leave for work... I've been absent for three days..."  
  
  
Had it really been that long?  
  
  
A pair of dark green hands on his shoulders, quickly slipping across his muscles informed Gohan that Piccolo was certainly not going to wait. In a matter of moments his shirt was on the floor and two sets of lips were caressing his neck, an oddly satisfying sensation- "...a....ah....Pikoro...san...."  
  
  
Well, he could go in late. That was better than nothing. 


	7. Round One

  
Trunks drummed his fingers against the coffee table, scowling. Gohan had returned from the gravity room (half naked and grinning ear to ear) an hour after entering. Piccolo was still there, but Trunks didn't need to see him to know what had happened. "Dammit," he whispered. "I can't let him undo what I did last night, becoming closer to Gohan..."  
  
  
He frowned, realizing he had cracked the coffee table. That would need paying for...  
  
  
"But what can I do? Piccolo had sleep with him, but that might be the only thing he has me beaten at..." Trunks stretched out on the couch. "Gohan complains about Piccolo always taking advantage of his body, so I should try to appeal to his intellectual side. Not hard for someone with my parentage, so what's my first course of action?"  
  
  
Hm... Piccolo would never, ever visit Gohan at work. Perhaps that would work! Trunks sat up, wincing as the bruises on his back protested at the movement. That seemed like a good plan- bring him something nice. Lunch!  
  
  
Trunks picked up the phone and called a restaraunt near the Orange Star Highschool. Ordering a meal, he carefully took triples of every family dish and gave his credit card number over the phone. Standing again, Trunks walked out the door, checked to make sure Piccolo was nowhere to be found, then blasted off into the sky.  
  
  
Flying was a nice time to think, and Trunks could always use that. He was sure the people at Capsule Corperation could take care of themselves for a few days, (weeks?) so he wasn't concerned about the office at the moment. What he was brooding over was simple- once he had Gohan, how would he tell his mother?  
  
  
His mother. Vegeta had understood, but could Bulma ever deal with that? He knew she loved him dearly, but...Well, he was always so embarrassed when she introduced him to girls, told him what a great father he would be someday...  
  
  
And on top of all that, Trunks knew he was a social figure. He was one of the most eligible bachelors on the face of the Earth. In the last month alone three different TV shows had called him up forsome sort of 'Who wants to marry an alien billionaire' sort of show. Trunks had declined and declined and declined...  
  
  
What would the public say? Homosexuals weren't really smiled upon, even now, though they weren't despised by the public either...  
  
  
He sighed. Why worry about this when Gohan wasn't even his, yet? Because I have to have him, and I will, Trunks thought tensely, clenching his fist . Piccolo was competition, but Gohan was smart, and Trunks could do so much more for him than that lousy namekusei-jin could...  
  
  
Satan City was coming up quickly, and Trunks scanned the horizen, settling on a particularly high sky scraper to land on. He didn't want to show up at Capsule Corperation- surely they're force some sort of meeting on him- so this was the next best thing. He landed without being spotted and entered the building through the roof, his wind-ruffled appearance earning him a few odd looks from the executives in the elevator.  
  
  
As he was spit out onto the sidewalk, Trunks paused at a shop window and adjusted his long hair. It was time to score some points with the man he loved.  
  
  
*****  
  
Gohan sighed and set down his coffee mug- at school he could drink all he liked, since Piccolo had never, ever come in to visit him and complain about the smell. He was struggling to make up for all the work he'd missed while taking care of Piccolo, and that meant grading lots and lots of what his students called 'busy work.' The fact that he came in late today didn't help much either-  
  
  
Still....He was glad he had bothered to check on Piccolo.  
  
  
Smiling slightly, Gohan marked a '76' on the top of a worksheet and decided he would skip lunch and try to catch up on his work. For a saiya-jin to skip lunch... His stomach growled at the very idea, and Gohan sweatdropped. "C'mon, it's just one meal."  
  
  
He rolled his eyes at himself and tried to concentrate on the paper before him when there was a solid knocking on the door. That surprised Gohan- students never knocked, but he called out anyway. "Come in!"  
  
  
Trunks poked his head into the room, making Gohan blink in surprise. "O...Oi! Torunkusu!"  
  
  
A look of relief spread across the lavender-haired genius' face. "Gohan-san! Ah, I was afraid I had the wrong room," he laughed slightly, moving into the classroom with three huge bags in his arms. Trunks took in his love's appearance greedily- Gohan was wearing his reading glasses and sitting behind a desk covered in papers and pencils and what not. Somehow, surrounded by his classroom, Gohan seemed much older than he did when he was fretting about Piccolo inside his own home. Trunks swallowed back his nervousness and forced himself to grin, setting the bags down on a desk.  
  
  
"W-...What are you doing here, Trunks?" Gohan finally managed to ask, having been shocked by the appearance of his friend. "You're hurt, you should be back at home!"  
  
  
"Ah, well, I figured you'd have a lot of work to do so I decided to bring you lunch!"  
  
  
Gohan's face lit up and he pulled his glasses off his face, suddenly looking ten years younger. "Torunkusu, I can take care of myself..."  
  
  
Trunks wouldn't be dismissed so easily. "Tsk! Someone's gotta make sure you're still eating, and Piccolo obviously won't, so here, enjoy it!"  
  
  
Relaxing, Gohan swept the papers on his desk into two piles and moved them to another table, then pulled a chair up for Trunks. "Ah, Torunkusu, you're too good to me, you know! Why do you worry about me so much."  
  
  
Because I love you, Trunks wanted to whisper, but instead he just lifted a finger to his lips. "Sore wa himitsu desu. It's a secret."  
  
  
And Gohan laughed, not realizing the truth. "This is so nice! Pikoro-san's only been here once, and that was...erm..." A blush crept up his face- he had almost lost his job on that little escapade- another teacher had walked in to find a strange looking alien making out with the resident history teacher- fortunately the news hadn't gotten ahold of the story, and Gohan had promised to never step over that line again.  
  
  
Trunks paled. "Yeah, well, I'm here for much purer motives," he joked as he pulled a few plastic containers out of the bags he had brought, and then shoved the chocolates across the desk into Gohan's arms. "Sort of."   
  
  
"Ch...chocolate?!"  
  
  
"Sure, why not? It's for you."  
  
  
Gohan blushed slightly, unused to recieving little tokens of admiration from anyone at all. "Trunks! That's really...nice....but...why?"  
  
  
"Well, I just know you like chocolate...do I need a reason to treat you like you deserve?" After a moment, the lavender-haired man hastily tried to cover his tracks by adding "After all, you are my best friend..." to the end of is thought.  
  
  
Opening the heart-shaped box, Gohan pulled out a chocolate covered cherry and stared at Trunks, his heart pounding. Something about the way that had been said rang in his ears, and he wasn't sure why. After a few moments he realized he was blushing. "S..Sankyuu, Trunks! This is really sweet, I could use a little cheering up."  
  
  
Trunks beamed as they began to eat. "No problemo, Gohan..."  
  
  
*******  
  
  
Piccolo scanned the area for Trunks' ki, and with alarm he realized that it was nowhere to be found. "Damn, what the hell? He shouldn't have left!" Spreading the area he was searching, he tried again, but got no response. "Doko da?!"  
  
  
Wearing nothing but a loose pair of baggy blue-purple boxers, Piccolo slowed his training exercise and thought hard. There were only a few place he could think to search- and when Trunks wasn't at Capsule Corperation or his office, Piccolo reluctantly checked the school that Gohan worked at.  
  
  
Trunks was there, his ki throbbing like a cancer next to Gohan's familier signal. Piccolo felt bile rise in his throat, raw hatred and anger that threatened to break down all his mental walls in a torrent of fury-  
  
  
"Kuso!!" Piccolo growled and clenched his fists at his side, fingernails biting into his palms. He was stupid, letting Trunks get all the way to Gohan's office and doing Kami-knew-what to him, without trying to stop it...! Piccolo, furious, slammed his fist into the wall hard enough to draw blood. The indigo liquid spilt from his knuckles and spattered onto the floor, leaving a dark-colored stain. "Stupid, stupid, stupid."  
  
  
Trunks was courting Gohan now, that was all Piccolo could think of. Why else would he be there? Courting his mate and at this point, probably winning. Gohan and Piccolo weren't married, they just...just loved each other. Suddenly, to Piccolo, that bond seemed horribly weak, ready to be broken at any second, ready to flicker and die at the first gust of opposition like a candle in a storm-  
  
  
"Don't think that!" 'Gohan would never cheat on me, never,' Piccolo bit his lip, hard, standing in the gravity room and trembling. 'I know that, I know that, I believe that.' But still, Trunks was everything Piccolo wasn't, and he was jealous, and didn't that make him a threat? 'What can I do!?"  
  
  
Nothing...  
  
  
Piccolo felt his eyes stinging, and that made him even angrier. There had to be a way to end this now, some way to eject Trunks from their lives, but...  
  
  
How?!  
  
  
******  
  
  
Trunks took a deep breath and fabricated a quick lie- something to bring Piccolo into the conversation, an excuse to break down whatever it was that tied the namekusei-jin to Gohan. "Gohan, I...I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but...Well, I was reading a magazine on abusive relationships, and..."  
  
  
Gohan tensed up, nervous about the topic. He knew what was coming, but he didn't want to admit it openly to Trunks. "Well, that's nice."  
  
  
"No, Gohan...I know you don't like thinking of it this way, but Piccolo fits a lot of the catagories for it...abusive, I mean. He makes you work and he never does, he doesn't cook, clean, and he uses your body...and I....I don't know, I've only seen what you've let me see, but it seems like you aren't really happy with him...this magazine told me that ninety-nine percent of abusive relationships end up scaring the submissive parter for life, making them afraid of love, of contact-"  
  
  
Turning away, Gohan refused to look Trunks in the face. "Pikoro may be a lot of things, but he's not abusive. He's not."  
  
  
"But Gohan, he hurts you! If not physically, then mentally! It's not healthy, you need to get away from him before you're injured beyond repair!"  
  
  
"I'm not a human! I can handle what I want to handle, and Pikoro loves me," the last words were spoken with a quivering voice, as if the speaker's belief in them was slowly dying away. Gohan's face was strained, but the words still came to his toungue easily. His faith wasn't dead yet.  
  
  
Trunks tried to sound sympathetic, but even to him the words sounded accusing. "When was the last time he told you that?!"  
  
  
Gohan fell silent, testing himself within to see how truthful the words were. "Trunks... I....I don't want to hear you bad-mouthing Pikoro-san...! Aren't you his friend!? Don't talk behind people's backs!"  
  
  
"I've always treated him with respect, but he hit me over the head with a chair, Gohan. He knows I'm you're best friend, so why would he do that? I'll tell you why, because he doesn't care about what you care about!"  
  
  
"Well, that doesn't matter to him b-"  
  
  
"Exactly! Gohan, you're getting hurt, anyone can see that, and I hate having to watch you be torn apart by someone as callous and uncaring as Pikoro...You should find someone else, someone more human who can understand what you need!"  
  
  
"There IS nobody else!" Gohan nearly shouted, standing up behind his desk. After a few seconds of silence, he reached out and slipped his glasses back up onto the bridge of his nose. Trunks sweatdropped, having the feeling that his lunch-time meeting was over. "Please, Trunks, I think you'd better go."  
  
  
"G...Gohan..."  
  
  
"Go!"  
  
  
*****  
  
  
Trunks wound up back outside in the hallway, scowling to himself. He had misjudged Gohan's unhappiness this time around... He scowled. Something would have to be done about this- he wouldn't lose to a namekusei-jin! This left only one thing left to try- Piccolo would have to be proven heartless in Gohan's eyes before Trunks could confess his emotions and be understood. Before he could win the price.  
  
  
"I can do that," Trunks smiled slightly, darkly, to himself. He had dreamed of discrediting Piccolo's for years now, ever since he had first realized what he felt for Gohan was love, not the hero adoration it had once been. "Easily."  
  
  
His next stop was a liquor shop. 


	8. Citrus-y interludes

  
Chapter eight  
  
  
When Gohan came home that day, the house was quiet. For once Trunks was the one in the gravity room and Piccolo was in the kitchen, peering through the refrigerator. Gohan walked in and set his things down by the door, much later than usual. It was already dark, he had stayed hours late to make up his extra work...  
  
  
"Pikoro-san, I'm home!"  
  
  
Piccolo turned, smirked, and slipped an arm around Gohan's neck, pulling the demi-saiya-jin against his chest in an unusually protectice gesture of affection. He spoke gruffly to hide the jealousy in his tone- "You're late, Gohan."  
  
  
Surprised, Gohan's eyes went wide. "I...I had to make up for what I missed while you were sick..."  
  
  
"Oh. You had to do extra work because of me?" Piccolo sounded almost regretful, making Gohan blink again.  
  
  
"It's not much, I finished it today."  
  
  
"Trunks didn't distract you, I assume."  
  
  
Gohan swallowed. "No, he brought me lunch... How'd you know?"  
  
  
"I felt his ki," Piccolo said darkly, resting his chin against Gohan's head and breathing in the scent of his shampoo- vanilla and lavender, delicious.  
  
  
"Oh...I'm going to go upstairs and change, Pikoro-san." Gohan pushed himself away and made his way towards the stairs, though a pair of heavy footsteps followed him as he moved. Gohan refused to turn around.  
  
  
"I'll join you..." Piccolo purred, eager to have his hands on his student again, and eager to exercise a bit of revenge against Trunks for what he'd done.  
  
  
"Pikoro-san!" Gohan blushed as he turned the corner into their room and found himself being pinned against the mirror on their closet door. "Don't you ever get tired?!"  
  
  
"Not of you."  
  
  
Gohan felt himself smiling, feeling slightly better after the long day of overtime work. Piccolo sounded almost playful, and that was really strange for him... Then the namekusei-jin was kissing him gently, tasting his lips- Gohan sighed and fell into the kiss, slipping his arms around Piccolo's neck. Surely, if Piccolo didn't love him, he wouldn't be able to kiss like this, so sweetly, so carefully...Surely!  
  
  
As Piccolo moved downwards, kissing his neck, Gohan tilted his head back and thought, his mind racing as quickly as his heart. After months and months, Piccolo's touch still excited him, still made him tremble. That was love, wasn't it?  
  
  
The shirt that had stretched across his shoulders slipped off and hit the ground with a soft crumpling of fabric.  
  
  
He felt himself being lifted, carried towards the bed and gently settled upon the sheets. Piccolo was there too, behind him then, and Gohan closed his eyes, feeling the powerful muscles of Piccolo's chest pressing against his back. From behind, Piccolo tasted his lover's skin, tracing patterns along Gohan's taut neck with his slender toungue, smirking as the saiya-jin squirmed in anticipation. He loved that, making Gohan want him. He loved the way Gohan would whisper his name, he loved being a part of his student- That was the only way the demon king knew to show Gohan how much he cared him. And it was all he could do to made him happy in the only way he understood...  
  
  
Gohan sucked in his breath as thick green fingers fumbled with his pants, and he raised an arm, curling it around Piccolo's neck as the namekusei-jin nipped his neck and then suckled softly on his earlobe. It was all Gohan could to to keep from moaning as Piccolo's hands found their target, as fire fled through his veins and his groin, lighting up his mind.  
  
  
It began then, the familier sensation within his chest that grew as Piccolo's fingers warmed his body, of a tight spring being wound in upon itself, coiling and recoiling as the fire grew beneath his waist, the pressure building up between his temples until Gohan knew he couldn't stand it-and still, Piccolo pulled him on, toying with him. Gohan could feel his smile against his neck, enjoying the sensation, enjoying the saiya-jin's cries as he hovored so near the ecstacy Piccolo was denying him-  
  
  
Oh, yes, Piccolo loved him, Gohan thought fervantly through the haze of pleasure. He had to love him. Gohan arched his back and lifted his chin as Piccolo's fingers sought out the curving muscles at the base of his spine and carressed the tender flesh, sending shivers up Gohan's frame. Lost, lost, he was completely lost in the arms of his lover- he had been since the moment of their first kiss.   
  
  
The namekusei-jin growled low in the back of his throat, pleased by Gohan's reactions, encouraged- but he forced himself hold back, because half his mind was elsewhere, feeling as Trunks' ki moved from the gravity room into the house, to the stairways-  
  
  
"P...Pi...Pikoro-san....o...onegai, onegai!!!" Gohan writhed, unable to bear the wait as Piccolo sensed Trunks- right outside the door. The namekusei-jin tightened his fingers and felt Gohan groan against him- What a sweet bit of revenge his would be... He smiled against Gohan's neck, closing his eyes as a shadow fell across the doorway.  
  
  
"Do you want it, Gohan?"  
  
  
"Pi..koro-san....." The demi-saiya-jin's voice cracked like a child's in the midst of his plea, making Piccolo supress a smile.  
  
  
The namekusei-jin could feel the anger surging in Trunks' ki, unhealthy, burning anger- he swallowed tightly and purred against the boy's hair, loudly enough that Trunks could hear. "Do you want me to touch you?"  
  
  
"PLEASE!"  
  
  
Piccolo opened his eyes and stared straight at Trunks, who was rooted to the spot by his unknowing intrusion. It was a dark glare that threatened- 'He is mine, you dare to challenge me? He is mine, I can give him what you never will.' "Will you scream my name, my Gohan? I want to hear you scream..."  
  
  
"YES! YES! PIKORO-SAN!"  
  
  
Smirking at Trunks, Piccolo gave Gohan what he asked for, and memorized the look on   
Trunks' face before the younger man disappeared down the stairwell.  
  
  
Gohan's body tightened as his world burnt in a firey blur, his back arching and his cries   
loud in the now-empty house. Swallowing back a sob, he went limp against Piccolo's chest with a shiver.  
  
  
Piccolo contemplated. He was feeling his own need severely as Gohan trembled between his legs, but somehow, taking the boy now didn't seem...right. Why? Simply because it was the first time he had come to the Gohan for Gohan's own sake?  
  
  
He ran his fingers through the boy's hair and kissed him gently on the forehead.  
  
  
Gohan, however, wasn't content with this arrangement. Quickly he had Piccolo against the pillow, and was kissing him savagely, his toungue slipping through lips, tasting his mentor's teeth. Piccolo nearly choked in surprise, staring wide-eyed at the boy who's personality had suddenly flipped before his eyes.  
  
  
After a few more breathless, interlocked moments, Gohan pulled away, and Piccolo could see that he was crying. The tears trickled down Gohan's chin, speckling the sheets beneath them."Pikoro...I.....I was so afraid..... So afraid you didn't love me, but you do, don't you? Don't you?"  
  
  
It caught Piccolo so completely off gaurd that he stared at Gohan, just long enough for the boy to emit an empty sob. As soon as the namekusei-jin opened his mouth, though, the lips were there again, tasting him, kissing him like he'd never been kissed before.  
  
  
This was Gohan!?  
  
  
"Pikoro-san..." Gohan kissed his mentor's cheek, his ear, his neck, whispering the name of his lover like a prayer as his hands stripped away the namekusei-jin's clothing. "Pikoro-san, Pikoro-san..."  
  
  
How strange! Gohan was never the one on top, never the one forcing Piccolo down, kissing him like an animal and biting softly around his neck. Gohan was the meeker, the innocent one- Piccolo barely knew what to think now that their positions had been reversed.  
  
  
The saiya-jin boy pressed his mouth into the hollow just below Piccolo's chest, licking the sweat from his smooth green skin, and Piccolo felt his insides liquify. It was different, being the one forced against the sheets, but at the same time it was something new, and something excitingly strange to feel.  
  
  
Gohan kissed lower. Piccolo's breath caught intheback of his throat and his fingers unconciously tightened, intertwining with Gohan's silky black hair as the boy's lips pressed against the tender pink of his stomach.  
  
  
Piccolo gasped for breath as the soft, ever-so-sweet lips moved downwards, engulfing him.  
  
  
He cried out.  
  
  
For one sweet moment, everything in the world was there in his arms, in the body, and the sweet lips of the slender boy in his arms- his Gohan.  
  
  
"Go...ha.....aah...."  
  
  
*******  
  
  
The next morning, Gohan was gone. Piccolo awoke, naked and alone in a warm bed. Sighing, he stared at the face of the clock by the bed. Nine. He stretched quietly, yawning and licking his fangs (in a rather cat-like manner), then stood up and rubbed his eyes, heading towards the bathroom.  
  
  
He stopped next to the mirror and grinned as he noticed the bite marks along his neck. 'I'll wear a low-cut gi today, just to piss Trunks off,' he nodded with satisfaction at the decision and did so after brushing his teeth.  
  
  
Gohan had been surprised when Piccolo bought a toothbrush, but after thinking about it the saiya-jin had admitted he had never even considered Piccolo needing something so distinctively human. Besides, he had added, he liked Piccolo with fresh breath. He certainly smelled it enough....  
  
  
Only then did Piccolo allow himself to consider Gohan's words from the night before. Something had been said, just before Gohan....  
  
  
Piccolo almost blushed, furious at himself for not having better control, and for letting Gohan outsmart him that time around. What had he said? It had been something important, some kind of confession, maybe? But what...?  
  
  
It was no good, the memories were too fogged. Piccolo smirked at that and turned from the mirror.  
  
  
Pulling a pair of boxers on, followed by jeans, Piccolo walked out of the bed and down to the kitchen. Trunks, he noticed, was nowhere to be found. Maybe he was gone! Piccolo's spirits rose, despite the situation, and he opened the refrigerator.  
  
  
Empty.  
  
  
With a scowl, he checked the freezer- that was empty as well. Piccolo was about to turn away when he realized that Gohan wouldn't have anything for dinner when he got home. Sighing, the namekusei-jin wondered what to do for a moment, then decided it was unavoidable.  
  
  
"I have to go to the store," he growled. Sighing, and not bothering to change his shirt, he glanced around for the 'credit card' Gohan had given him months beforehand. Piccolo had never used it, but he was sure there would be no problems.  
  
  
Pausing at the doorway he pulled on a black leather jacket and walked to the garage. He could fly, but explaining that to a townful of gawking humans would be a pain and a half. Instead he pulled out the only vehicle they owned- an ancient capsule motercycle, picked an empty capsule out of a box and hopped onboard.  
  
  
Piccolo found himself zipping along the curved mountain roads at what was most certainly an unsafe speed with the wind in face and the sun in his eyes. The breeze from the mountains surrounding their home was cool and gusty, and Piccolo smiled slightly.What would he have done if Gohan had made him move to the city?  
  
  
He had no idea.  
  
  
It was a forty-five minute drive to the nearest town, so Piccolo pulled out a pair of sunglasses and settled down for the ride.  
  
  
  
*******  
  
  
  
Trunks watched him go with a grin on his face, then turned back into the house. 'Hehehe. He thinks he's won the game, but oh, this evening will be spectacular...'  



	9. The Storm Hits

Chapter nine  
  
Gohan threw his bag against the chair near the door and glanced around the empty house. No lights were on, though he shrugged that off. "Pikoro-san...?" Gohan whispered, shyly. Facing his mentor tonight would certainly be....different....  
  
  
After last night-  
  
  
Gohan grinned and walked into the living room, noticing that Trunks was asleep on the couch. Ignoring the lavender haired boy, he peered through the window and smiled. A small light next to the door of the gravity room told him where his mentor was. Smiling, Gohan turned back to the stairs and took the steps two at a time.  
  
  
When he reached the second story, he froze.  
  
  
What...?  
  
  
A stink permeated the upper level of the house, dull and musty, and yet overly sweetened by something else, something unfamilier. Frowning, Gohan followed the scent into the bedroom he shared with Piccolo, and stopped dead.  
  
  
He could just see a bottle, stuck sideways under their bed. "Pikoro-san..." Gohan whispered, noticing that the windows were open anda can of pressurized air freshener was on the table next to the door.  
  
  
Gohan swallowed, tears pricking up behind his eyes. "But....he promised.....to....." How could this be? Piccolo had thrown his drinks away, promised to stop, and Gohan had believed him. Piccolo didn't lie!  
  
  
Still, as Gohan knelt next to the bed and lifted the sheets to find a crumpled box. Pulling it out, he found four bottles of sake, seven packages of cigarettes, and what was worse, something that looked suspiciously illegal. There was an ashtray as well, and three still-lit buts burning in it- that had been what Gohan had smelled all the way down the stairs.  
  
  
He couldn't help the anger and shock that flooded his mind, the betrayal he felt.... Trunks' voice rang in Gohan's ears as he fingered the label on a bottle, heart pounding. 'If he loves you, he'll change! If he loves you, he'll change! If he loves you, he'll change! '  
  
  
And the night before, at the peak of passion, Gohan had begged Piccolo to speak his love, but the namekusei-jin had said nothing....  
  
  
Gohan picked up a light box of cigarettes and crushed it in his palm, a little cloud of dust ballooning out between his tense fingers. It wasn't worth this, no ammount of physical love would ever be worth what seeing this did to him. "If he...loved me....he would have..."  
  
  
Something inside of him was bending, bending, breaking. Gohan let out an audible sigh as he felt his hope, his love, his trust of Piccolo's words and judgement all snapping at once, the space they once held being filled by nothingness, a void in his heart, a wound. He stood, refusing to cry, and kicked the box, hard.  
  
  
Gohan walked downstairs, fuming silently, until Trunks sat up on the couch, rubbing his eyes though he had been faking sleep. "Gohan?" He asked tiredly, trying to sound surprised by the sudden jump in Gohan's power level. "Doushitano?!"  
  
  
The black-haired saiya-jin spoke, his voice cracking as he tried to force unwielding words through his lips. "I.......Pik...oro....he...he...."  
  
  
Trunks furrowed his brows in concern, shocked by the broken expression on Gohan's face. Though he knew perfectly well what was wrong (After all, he had taken great pains to make sure the upstairs scene was perfect, even down to selecting Piccolo's favorite brand of liquor) he still tried to look concerned and scared. "Is he hurt?!"  
  
  
Gohan's fingers clenched and unclenched and a sob rose up in the back of his throat. How could he face Trunks, and admit that all along the lavender-haired man had been right? Admit that Piccolo was no good, had never been able to make him happy after denying that for so many long months...? "No..."  
  
  
Making a face, Trunks asked another question, looking as disgusted as he could manage. "And...what's that...smell....?"  
  
  
That did it. In a moment, Gohan's face went from furious to hopeless, his shoulders trembling as he buried his face in his hands. Trunks watched calmly for a moment, then moved closer and slipped his arms around Gohan's shoulders, letting the older man cry for a few moments.  
  
  
"Oh, God...Trunks...I....I'm so stupid. I can't b-believe this is happening, I never... he....Trunks, upstairs, he...left all sorts of sake and such out and...and I...If....if.. if he loved me, he would change....I have to get away from here!!"  
  
  
Heart throbbing, Trunks pressed Gohan against his neck, grinning from ear to ear. Perfect. He had known Gohan would be mad at Piccolo when he saw the objects Trunks had planted in their room, but now-  
  
  
"Trunks, Trunks, I want to be rid of him, but...I'm so scared-"  
  
  
"Scared?!" Trunks breathed the word, almost laughing outloud. "Of what?!"  
  
  
"Of being...alone....I'll never have anyone now, now that Piccolo's betrayed me..." When Gohan whispered those words into Trunks' ear, the lavender-haired man nearly fell over in surprise.  
  
  
"Wh-what?!"  
  
  
"Who could love me, Trunks?!" Now Gohan had pushed him away and was slumping on the couch, shoulders heaving with sobs as if his body could barely contain the agony within. "I'm a monster, a saiya-jin, a planet killer.... I'm stronger than anyone but I can't even...I can't even make him love me... God, I want him to love me..."  
  
  
Trunks felt his hard-won opportunity slipping away, and he grasped at it with clawed fingertips. "Gohan, how can you say that?!"  
  
  
"LOOK AT ME!" Gohan stared at his hands in disgust, tears streaming down his cheekbones. "Just look!"  
  
  
"Gohan....." Slowly, Trunks took in a deep breath. This felt right. At last he could tell Gohan what he'd been feeling for so long, could explain why he had always known Piccolo was wrong for Gohan....If lying was what it took to get to the one you love, Trunks thought the lie was justified.  
  
  
He took a final breath and enfolded Gohan in his arms, sighing softly. "Gohan, Gohan... when I look at you I don't see a monster....I see a beautiful warrior, you're strong, but you're human as well.... And you'll always have me!"  
  
  
Gohan was trembling. "Trunks, I want someone to love me. I thought he was my   
soulmate, I thought...but...... I'm alone..."  
  
  
"Damn it, Gohan!" Trunks could feel tears in his own eyes know, tears for the love that Gohan didn't understand. "You're not alone, I won't let you be alone, because I love you. For years and years I've felt this, this overwhelming need to hold and protect you, to keep you happy, and every second you've wasted your affection on that overgrown monster it killed me inside..sure, I thought, maybe I could settle for being your closest friend.... No, it didn't work." Gohan was staring now, the tears slowing, but Trunks couldn't steep the flow of words falling from his lips.  
  
  
"You never knew, Gohan...never..... I've waited so many years for you to throw Piccolo out of your heart, and now he's gone, please, onegai, Gohan, stay with me!"  
  
  
Gohan didn't know what to say. He didn't know what to think, somehow the world had been turned upside down and shaken, all the pieces were in the wrong places. He was being held tightly by Trunks, who had just sworn love towards him. Piccolo was suddenly a monster, uncaring, unfeeling, unfair. Gohan suddenly felt almost ill at the thought of leaving Piccolo, as if his body and soul was sobbing for him to stay true, but somehow that didn't seem so important as this....he thought it had been love, but wasn't this what he had been looking for? Hadn't Gohan always wanted someone to hold him while he cried, to tell him he was beautiful?  
  
  
Trunks could do that. He had always been in the background, silent but knowing, ready to put in a good word. He had never liked Piccolo, but Gohan had always assumed it was because of Piccolo's nature, so dark and antisocial....now he understood.  
  
  
Trunks....  
  
  
"Trunks...."  
  
  
"Oh, Gohan...don't hate me.....I know it's soon, but I just...I can't wait! I can't! You're so incredible, so powerful, so handsome and so close..."  
  
  
Gohan could feel his heart pounding as Trunks pulled him closer and kissed his cheek, licking away the tears. Some part of his inner body quailed at the wrongness of the touch... That part of him that wanted to forgive Piccolo, to have his mentor back. Gohan felt angry, lost, confused by the conflict within his heart, and then he was kissing Trunks, and Trunks was kissing him.  
  
  
And Piccolo was watching.  
  
  
Gohan first realized there was a third person in the room when Trunks' breath hissed in through his teeth, making the darker-haired man open his eyes. What he saw was Piccolo, standing in the doorway, his face frozen in shock. Gohan's heart twisted for the namekusei-jin, the look in Piccolo's eyes was so disbelieving, so agonized that Gohan saw what he must have looked like to Trunks when he first came down the stairwell that afternoon.  
  
  
He cried out, in fury, in apology. "Pikoro-san..."  
  
  
Piccolo took a step back, shaking his head, unable to speak. Gohan. His Gohan. Kissing....kissing someone else....kissing Trunks.....   
  
  
The third wheel remained silent, staring at Piccolo with victory in his eyes.  
  
  
Piccolo himself was struggling to regain control. He was too broken-hearted to even speak as Gohan stood, started gesturing angrily towards the stairs, speaking of something Piccolo didn't understand.  
  
  
Gohan.  
  
  
He couldn't believe....for his whole life, Gohan had been the one who never turned away. Gohan had brought him life, had given him a place, had shown him adoration, companionship and love. Gohan had brought out the absolute best where nothing good had been born, and now that one stable person had betrayed him.  
  
  
  
  
Piccolo took another step back, denial in his eyes as Gohan's face belied nothing but anger, showed nothing of the twinge of remorse in his stomach.  
  
  
  
  
"Are you even listening to me?!" Gohan cried at last, feeling tears sting his eyes again. "Are you just going to stand there, say something!?"  
  
  
"Go...han...."  
  
  
The namekusei-jin reached out, taking Gohan's chin in his fingertips, leaning over for a kiss, but Gohan pulled sharply away. "YAMERO!"  
  
  
It was like a knife, slicing away at what control Piccolo had left. He wasn't sure how he had lost the battle for Gohan's heart, but he had failed to protect what he loved, and the thought was unbearable. Turning, Piccolo escaped from the house and the two pairs of eyes that followed him into the sky, but did not leave the earth.  
  
  
**********  
  
  
He did not stop until he was far away, somewhere he didn't recognize. It was cold, but he didn't care, Piccolo stopped, dropped like a rock, and tucked himself up as small as he could become, trying to understand.  
  
  
'It's because of me,' he sobbed dryly, tearlessly. A lifetime of forcing the tears back was coming into desperate play here, now that he was alone. 'It's because I never learned to love. Gohan, I wanted to give you everything and instead I broke your heart and drove you to someone else. But...god, I never had an example, never knew what love was until you kissed me for the first time! But Trunks....Gohan, you're my soulmate, can't you feel it!?'  
  
  
Gohan wasn't there. He didn't answer, Piccolo was alone in the dusky light with the torn feeling that he had lost something horribly important deep inside of himself. It lingered in his chest, utter misery, agony, lonliness, the emotions he had defeated by falling in love were now flooding his mind as if the years of living on his own were multiplied by this rejection.  
  
  
"Am I so evil?!" Piccolo asked himself outloud, his face twisted by the emotion in his heart. "Am I so evil that nobody will ever understand!?"  
  
  
The sky was darkening, the sunset brilliant, but Piccolo's mind was filled only with images of Gohan. How quickly his life had turned from heaven into hell, how the rain came once the clouds had appeared. 'I tried to keep you Gohan, I really did, I wanted to grow old with you, your teacher, friend and lover forever, but I suppose.....I suppose it would never have worked...I'm too tainted, to dark for you, you're so beautiful.....'  
  
  
God, but he was beautiful. All Piccolo could see was the shining, smiling face of his lover. Ex-lover? Did it matter?  
  
  
There would never be anyone else.  
  
  
The sun sank down behind the trees and Piccolo prepared himself for his first time alone in over twenty years.  
  
  
********  
  
  
Gohan watched him go, a lump in his throat.  
  
  
"It's for the better," Trunks said as he came up behind him, setting a hand on his shoulder. "He didn't really love you."  
  
  
Trunks sounded so sure.....So why was there that little flutter, the ache in his heart that spoke otherwise?  
  
  
"I still love him, Trunks."  
  
  
"I know." Trunks nodded, though he couldn't see Gohan's face.  
  
  
"I'll...I'll try.....I'll try to see you as more than a friend, I want to, but it will take me time..."  
  
  
"All the time in the world is worth having you for my own, Gohan." Trunks wrapped his arms around the shorter man's torso and smiled softly into his hair. "And that's exactly how much time we have." 


	10. Endless Rain

Author's note: I don't want to ruin the mood at the end of this chapter, so the note is here. I'm considering a sequel, but it totally depends on the feedback I get from this. The song in this chapter is called 'Endless Rain' by X Japan- WOO! I love this song, the fic was actually thought up while I was listening to this piece of music, and I based the whole story around this, the ending.  
  
  
~Tomo  
  
  
  
********  
I'm walking in the rain   
Yuku ate mo naku kizutsuita karada nurashi  
Karamitsuku koori no zawameki   
Koroshi tsuzukete samayou itsu made mo   
Until I can forget your love  
  
  
Nemuri wa mayaku tohou ni kureta   
Kokoro o shizuka ni tokasu   
Mai agaru ai o odorasete   
Furueru karada o kioku no bara ni tsutsumu   
I keep my love for you to myself  
*********  
  
  
The darkness of the house, the emptyness was too incredible for Gohan to bear. As he walked to the bedroom he clicked on every light and opened every door, even knocking a few pillows off the chairs in an attempt to fill the void. It was now just a structure, it was now a house again instead of a home.  
  
  
He changed his clothes, trading slacks and a dress-shirt in for jeans and a tank top. As he lifted the chosen shirt he froze- it was one of his Piccolo-look alikes, one of the half dozen he owned that matched his mentor's color scheme.  
  
  
How long had he been wearing these? Piccolo had branded him with his colors at age four, and ever since then the dark indigo cloth had been a symbol of what he loved, of his courage and his skill.  
  
  
Slowly he lowered the shirt, the voices in his mind screaming again for attention. Piccolo betrayed him. Trunks loved him. Piccolo had always been there, but Trunks had always been kind. Piccolo had died for him.  
  
  
Trunks loved him.  
  
  
Tossing the shirt across the desk, Gohan found another. Green.  
  
  
He threw that one aside as well and picked a safe, plain white shirt that reminded him of nothing.  
  
  
The stairwell was quiet, the house achingly empty, and Gohan turned every radio in the house to a teenage-music station, one he would normally never listen to, but it was loud and pushed the thoughts out of his mind.  
  
  
In the kitchen he knelt to pick out the tea kettle, only to find that it wasn't there. Surprised, Gohan stood and found it already on the stove top, though the water in it was cold. Turning around, Gohan eyed a glass on the breakfast table, and his heart skipped a beat. Someone had been here....  
  
  
There was a note on the table.  
  
  
Gohan stepped forward, breath quickening. With a trembling hand, he picked up the note and held it tightly for a moment. It was folded and white, and on the front two symbols were etched in curly, unfamilier-yet-unmistakable kanji- his name.  
  
  
It was from Piccolo.  
  
  
Gohan closed his eyes and forced himself to breathe. Should he read it? Somehow he knew that this slip of paper would set his mind one way or another, somehow he understood that the decision he made now would forever influence his life, his family...  
  
  
He licked his lips and unfolded the note.  
  
  
********  
Endless rain, fall on my heart kokoro no kizu ni   
Let me forget all of the hate, all of the sadness  
  
It's a dream, I'm in love with you   
Madoromi dakishimete  
***********  
  
Rain.   
  
It fell through the wind, carressing the fabric of the sky and showering down to touch the breast of a newborn leaf. It plummeted about, battered by the mournful wind, it fell upon Capsule Corperation, upon the muddy cloth of Piccolo's cape, and upon the Son household.  
  
Rain.  
  
*******  
Endless rain, fall on my heart kokoro no kizu ni   
Let me forget all of the hate, all of the sadness  
******  
  
  
Trunks swallowed harshly as he entered the house. Despite the music and lights, he knew something was wrong.  
  
  
When he found two notes folded together on the kitchen table, he knew he had lost.  
  
  
  
******  
I awake from my dream   
I can't find my way without you  
  
  
The dream is over   
******  
  
  
Plucking the first paper up, Trunks read his name on the front. With trembling fingers he opened it, smoothing the paper once before examining what it said.  
  
~  
'Torunkusu-  
  
I'm sorry, Trunks, but I can't do this. You're an incredible friend and I'm sure there's someone perfect out there for you...I've finally realized why Pikoro-san and I have been fighting, and it's all my fault. I've complained so much because Piccolo won't change for me, without ever thinking about how I could change instead....Trunks, please understand, in a relationship you have to give and take, and I've given nothing and taken everything.  
  
~Son Gohan'  
~  
  
He stopped reading, shocked. Give and take? But Gohan had never been happy! 'NO! Don't leave me like this, Gohan...' That was the end, terse and abrupt, but still an ending.  
  
The second paper still sat there, like a cancer on the table, malignant. Trunks didn't want to touch it, but he felt overpowered to discover what simple words Piccolo had used to undo his hold over Gohan. Slowly he flipped the sheet open, and surmised the letter.  
  
  
The paper was splotched here and there, and Trunks supposed the ink-blurred blobs were either tears or drips of rainwater off a pair of dangling antennae. The edges were creased and several large pools of ink adorned the page in places where Piccolo had set his pen for a moment to consider his words.  
  
  
Trunks swallowed, then nearly dropped the letter as he read the first line.  
  
  
'On this page I write my last confession...'  
  
  
"Shit, he wouldn't..."  
  
  
'I'm sorry. I don't understand what I've done wrong. Gohan,' a pause, a blot of ink, then two scratched out words, 'all I want is for you to be happy.' Trunks squinted, the handwriting was cramped and unpracticed, but he could still make out a few words. 'If Trunks can give you that' (something was blotted out here) 'then I hope you will enjoy your time together...'  
  
  
Trunks frowned. What kind of letter was this? Piccolo sounded like he'd given up all hope of seeing Gohan again.  
  
  
'Please forgive me- I will never be able to change into the lover you want, but I have always, always loved you.'  
  
  
The name at the bottom was smeared and scribbled hastily. Trunks set the letter down, trying to ignore the empty feeling in his stomach. Was that it? Had he been defeated by a slip of paper?! Trunks let himself fall to his knees and pressed his face into his hands. "I shouldn't have tried this..." he whispered. "I shouldn't have tried to take him. I've only hurt Gohan...hurt myself...hurt Piccolo...how can I look my Gohan in the eye now?"  
  
  
The splashing of the rain was almost musical, almos talive. It was a companion, someone with a voice and a sigh that would listen to the silent demands of the heartbroken saiya-jin.  
  
  
Trunks let the water drizzle through him, tried to lose himself in it's comforting cadence, but his mind wouldn't slow. "Me," he whispered, "The son of Vegeta, miserable over....over....."  
  
  
He shook his head and lifted into the air. "What will I do now?" For so many long years he had lusted over Gohan, and now there was nothing, nobody at all.  
  
  
Trunks retreatead to his home, feeling like his very future had been ripped away.  
  
  
  
***********  
Koe ni naranai kotoba o kurikaeshite mo   
Takasugiru hai iro no kabe wasugi satta hi no   
Omoi o yume ni utsusu   
Until I can forget your love  
**********  
  
  
Piccolo was there, perched high on a cliff face, eyes closed. Gritty water slid down his shoulders, but he made no movement, just settled there, a long blade in his hands. It was flecked with mud, like it's weilder, the blade was short compared to Piccolo but the perfect length for a child, despite the broken edge.  
  
  
Thunder clapped overhead as Gohan landed, already drenched to the bone. Wiping his slick hair out of his eyes with one hand, he studied his lover's profile, unsure of how to proceed.  
  
  
The narrow green eyes were closed, and an expression that might have been pain had been etched across his features. With the water splashed all about, Gohan couldn't be sure whether he was crying or the rain was playing tricks on the panes of his face.  
  
  
For a moment, Gohan tried to recall why this place felt so familier. It took him a few seconds before he realized that indeed, this was the island Piccolo had first taken him to train on. This was the place they had learned so much...  
  
  
He stared at the sword. "Pikoro-san...."  
  
  
At first, Piccolo didn't move, save for the trembling of his shoulders. "Pikoro-san?" Gohan ventured again, wondering if he had been heard. After another second, Piccolo opened his eyes and stared feverishly at Gohan, unsure of the reality before him. It seemed incredible- after a few seconds, Piccolo's face twisted into the most hope-filled mask Gohan had ever seen him wear.  
  
  
Gohan was shocked. Where was his impassive mentor, who never batted an eye for anything? This stranger before him looked vulnerable, pleading despite the broad physical appearance he wore.  
  
  
Somehow that made him feel his choice was truly the correct one.  
  
  
*******  
Endless rain, fall on my heart kokoro no kizu ni   
Let me forget all of the hate, all of the sadness  
  
  
Endless rain, let me stay   
Evermore in your heart   
Let my heart take in your tears, take in your memories  
********  
  
  
"Pikoro-san," Gohan managed to whisper weakly, "what are you doing with that sword?" Piccolo glanced at the blade wordlessly, as if just noticing it for the first time. When no answer came, Gohan asked again. "What's it for?"  
  
  
He knelt in the muck, watching Piccolo carefully. Half of him thought the namekusei-jin would be angry, and yet half of him was convinced Piccolo would steal him back protectively, being angry at Trunks.  
  
  
He had not been prepared for this utter helplessness, the way Piccolo seemed to be sleepwalking-  
  
  
"It's yours," his mentor said at last, softly. Gohan did a double take and realized that yes, that was the sword Piccolo had given him to protect himself, so many years ago. "I kept it."  
  
  
Gohan licked his lips. "Pikoro...."  
  
  
The other man looked away. "You should go. I've only made you unhappy...I'm sorry, Gohan," the voice cracked, gruff and dark though it was. "I can never be the lover you want."  
  
  
Gohan moved closer on his hands and knees, mud squelching through his fingers. "Piccolo, you've always been the lover I want. I was just too...too self centered to realize...."  
  
  
The two locked ebony eyes, two souls that had been bound by companionship, friendship and love. Slowly Piccolo opened his arms, questioningly, unsure of the response, and Gohan fled from the rain into his embrace, tucking himself into the familier curve of Piccolo's neck.  
  
  
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, please forgive me...I..." Gohan tighted the damp fabric of Piccolo's gi between his fingertips. "He's nothing to me. Nothing. I just...I'm so stupid...please..."  
  
  
The namekusei-jin tightened his arms, listening to Gohan's breathing beneath the filter of rain-patter. "No. I'm foolish. I never told you how much I love you."  
  
  
Gohan felt himself tense at the unfamilier words.  
  
  
Piccolo stroked his hair, whispering the words passionately into Gohan's ear, bearing his soul open. "I was too scared, so scared that you would hate me for depending on you so much... I've never told you how you light up the world, how you are my only reason for living, my pride and joy and love....my Gohan..."  
  
  
"I....I knew it all the time, Piccolo, if I had listened to myself..... I knew it all along."  
  
  
The rain poured down, frigid and endless, but they clung together and were warm.  
  
  
*******  
Endless rain, fall on my heart kokoro no kizu ni   
Let me forget all of the hate, all of the sadness  
  
  
Endless Rain  
******* 


End file.
